Something Old Something New
by Rhav
Summary: Emotion was something John was not familiar with. He had locked all of it away at a young age, forced to grow up, to be cold, calculative; a weapon. But the something warm, something ancient and familiar scathed the pit of him. Tendrils of heat, of hope, humanity. John meets someone new, who leads him back to his past. Taking off from Halo 4 - based from games more than books.
1. What We Call Home

This is mostly based off of the games, because I haven't read the books. My knowledge of the Halo-verse is pretty limited, so bear with me. If there are any factual errors, I apologize.

_I do not own nor am I in any way affiliated with Halo. I write for the experience and for the fun. Please enjoy!_

Emotion was something John was not familiar with. He had locked all of it away at a young age, forced to grow up, to be cold, calculative; a weapon. But the something warm, something ancient and familiar scathed the pit of him. Tendrils of heat, of hope, human. As he stood on the bridge, his worn, lackluster eyes studying the inky blackness before him, he decided this was not acceptable. Thinking, feeling this way was dangerous. He missed her more than he could put into words, and that was something he could not concede to. All this time he had no idea how much he depended on her. How dearly he would need her. His mind was numb now, slowly restricting itself. It was habit. Slowly, he lifted his hands to his tattered helmet, and gave it a slight twist, unlocking it and lifting it from his head. The stale air on his face aroused some small piece of humanity inside him. It always did. He set his helmet in the crook of his arm and continued to muse.

The sound of footsteps caused his eyes to flicker, fleeting over his shoulder to see Lasky. He stopped however, and cleared his throat, probably nervous to interrupt the quiet Chief anymore.

"Change of plans Chief... we're stopping on earth, briefly." John's stomach churned, slightly, and he nodded. Earth. It had been a long time. Curiously, he began to imagine doing something that wasn't saving humanity for a change. Maybe walk in a park, or see a film. This notion quickly faded though as Lasky padded noisily from the bridge. John ran a hand over his jaw, feeling the knick of a past battle, the scar from a foe. He could see his reflection in the window, and he looked at it hard. Strong jaw, pale skin, fading freckles, lines and scars of an old man. He was aging, no power in the universe could stop that. He sighed, and ran a hand through his now thick hair. His chin and jaw stubbly and thick with growth. He didn't know about shaving. Maybe he'd keep it. Probably not. Giving his reflection one last, lingering gaze, the Spartan replaced his helmet with a click.

That night John hardly slept, his dreams riddled with faces of people long since dead. People he had once... loved? Mother, father, brother. They were all just memories now. He wasn't even sure he remembered what they looked like. That hurt more than he had anticipated. Was he a machine? Or a human... he wasn't sure. At one time he didn't care. But Cortana placed it inside him. Rooted into him and made him question his motives, his memories and dreams. She was there that night too. "I'll miss you." Would she really? He doubted. She was like him, created, crushed and engineered to be artificial. A machine. But Cortana made him feel something no one had. She made him feel - alive. The haze he was in. War, death, defend, win. It was his life, it was his calling. Something drilled, nay, planted deep inside of him. Such was the life of a tool of war. As he finally drifted into a lull, he saw his mother. Or what he assumed was her. She was telling him not to put his elbows on the table and kissed him on the cheek. Sleep was overrated.

The ship docked early that morning. John was unsure if he wanted to set foot off the ship. After much internal conflict, he decided to do it. Being out of his armor was very uncomfortable. Especially after years of being in it day after day. Jeans and a white t-shirt. It was... awkward. His boots hit the ship's heavy flooring with nervousness. As he passed people through it's halls, they stared, whispered and nudged. John was never the type to be embarrassed. He did however feel very out of his element. As he rounded a corner and began to ascend a pair of stairs, he heard a familiar voice.

"Chief?" he paused and turned around, his eyes meeting Sarah's. "Wow..." she said, giving him a one over. He rubbed the back of his neck and quirked a brow. "It's weird, isn't it?" she said, adjusting her own white t-shirt. He nodded silently, looking over her fit figure. It had been a long time since he had seen a fellow human, not clad in armor. The human form was beautiful, elegant, and Sarah Palmer was no exception. She shifted, showing her own uncomfortableness and chukled, "Well, I'm going to go now," and she quickly shuffled away.

John pushed his mouth to the side and turned back to the stairs, taking two at a time. Dog tags jingled at his neck under his shirt, tattered and used. True to their owner. Experienced, strong and loyal. As he reached the loading bay, John watched his fellow soldiers preparing to board the planet. They were all chattering, obviously excited to be "home". He slowly came to stand behind a group of marines, listening to their conversation. Something about "getting some" which he suspected meant intercourse. He was getting too old for this. The thought of intimacy made his mind restrict again. He'd never experienced this, nor really had much interest. He understood man and woman had intercourse to produce young, but the idea of love and intimacy was lost on him. Besides, children were loud and broke things. He couldn't imagine himself fathering young. He was yanked from his thought as the bay doors opened, columns of light falling through them. They hit his skin, warm and welcomed. He could feel that ancient warmth dwelling inside him, so he quickly began walking. His first destination was going to be eating something. He was more excited about eating than anything else. Socialization was of no use. Peace, quiet and downtime was what he thought was of true worth. People talked too much anyway.

It was a beautiful day. No clouds, a light wind, mid-summer, and very low crowds on the installation. He liked that. Crowds were annoying. He ate at a post exchange, ordering a simple dish, something he remembered eating as a child. A casserole of some sort. After he had eaten his fill, which was pretty sizable, he decided he would enjoy sitting in a park. The distance between the park and the food court was minimal, so he walked there with his hands in his pockets, his eyes trained on the sky. The next thing he knew, something small had collided into his chest. A small shriek sounded, and the sound of books hitting the concrete caused him to whip his head down to his feet.

"I am so sorry sir, I wasn't looking where I was going." She was small, frail, pale and he could have killed her with the flick of a wrist. Nothing about her seemed to suggest someone who was capable of defending themselves. She was scrambling to pick up several books and papers. John's eyes gave a slight roll, and he leaned down, snatching up a clump of papers and pushing them into her arms with the others. Clumsiness was nothing to admire. She looked up, finally, and met his eyes. A small, unwelcomed, untamed tendril of heat flickered inside of him. Her eyes were so familiar. Soft, light blue with flecks of gray. Parisa. He gave his chest a sigh and uncharacteristically offered her a hand to stand. She took it, graciously, and stood to her feet. She had an oval face, high cheek bones, angled jaw, full lips, a small nose and almond eyes. Her skin was light, but not matching his own paleness. She was a perfect exable of the feminine form. John wanted to say something, but his scope of socialization was limited. The woman sighed, offered a small smile, and took his hand in a shake. John let her guide his limp, calloused hand. "I'm Charlotte."

He watched her, the weight of her hand was amusing. She waited for his name. "John," he answered simply. He didn't know what to say, really. He just wanted to leave. He dropped her hand, and put his own behind his back at ease. Always the solider. He longed for his suit. At least inside of it, no one could see his face. Could calculate what he was feeling. It was apparent to him that he actually cared what this woman thought, and he shook it off, glancing towards the park. He looked back down at the woman, and noticed her staring at his service tag.

"You're a Spartan," she said, sounding a little surprised. John flicked his eyes.

"Correct."

"Amazing."

"I don't understand," he wanted out. She was doing that thing people did. Talked. But he couldn't make his feet move, nor break contact with those familiar eyes.

"I've just never met any. I mean, they're all... well... dead." John didn't respond. He thought to his squad, to the children he learned and fought and lived with. The pain of being alone was all to real to a soldier. John began to move past her, but she moved to walk beside him. He glanced to his side, his eyes narrowed down at her. "Well?"

"Hm?" he said gruffly, annoyed.

"Well, are you alone?" John nodded to her question. She kept walking beside him. He stopped, faced her. "What?" she sounded innocent, optimistic, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing." He started forward again, she followed, slightly.

"Please stop that."

"I just... I am a writer. And, well, I have a lot of questions..." John's face was emotionless as he stared at her. He supposed it couldn't hurt, but then again, he felt as if he was making excuses to talk to her. She watched him, carefully, and though he did not respond, she smiled broadly and produced a pad and stylus. John began walking again. "Where were you born?"

" Eridanus II." She jotted something down. He paused, extremely annoyed with himself for telling her that. The questions that followed ranged from favorite food to his last battle. He was curt and very undescriptive. She didn't seem to care. After her incessant questions, John asked her his own.

"Are you done?"

"Almost." She was frustratingly persistent. He rubbed the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. "Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Are you sure? I cook a mean chicken. Cmon, MREs can't be that good." Chicken was good. He mentally kicked himself. She noticed the slight arch of his brows. "Good!" she said, now leading the way. He sighed heavily, trudging after her. What was possessing him to care how this woman felt? A growling stomach and the thought of military food to come, that's what.

She didn't live far from his prior location. Her home was small and unimpressive. She let him in, throwing her things in a pile on a desk. John stood in the doorway, wearily eyeing his surroundings. The longing for his suit was back. The idea of being exposed gnawed him to the core. Charlotte poked her head around the corner from the kitchen where she was clanging pots.

"Make yourself at home."

Too many throw pillows, paper and... a cat was sitting in the only available chair. He lifted the cat with his hand and dropped it to the floor. It mrowled and darted into the kitchen. He sat down, his hands on his knees. He felt too big for the house. The smell of food quickly wandered into the living room, and John found himself leaning slightly to see into the kitchen. He could see the woman moving around, somewhat. She was humming, a small, pert smile on her face. Her behavior baffled him. How could she invite a complete stranger into her home? He could be anyone. A serial killer, rapist or worse. She was completely opening herself up for harm and danger. John just couldn't wrap his head around this. He shifted in the chair stiffly, his cold eyes scanning the room. Pictures of family, people smiling and hugging, drawings, noted pinned to cork boards. She was not wealthy, he could tell be her lack of much technology. It was quite common for people on earth, whose family was not very well off to live in these conditions. It was humbling. He noticed a data cortex sitting on the table in front of him. He leaned, down, and quickly slipped his fingers over it, turning it on. It was an older model, slow and glitchy, but military grade. Not even a common foot solder's, but an all-clearance officers. In the hands of a civilian. This bothered him. He opened up her latest search and found a file. Silas Taggart, missing in action, thirty nine years old... SPARTAN-288. He recognized this person immediately. John stood up, gripping the device in his hands. He looked into the kitchen and strode into it heavy-footed. He slammed the cortex, harder than he had meant to onto the counter. Charlotte jumped, whipping around to face the tall man. Her eyes scrambled to the device.

"Who are you?" John's voice was stiff and cold. The look of fear in her eyes reminded him she was no assassin. She wiped her hands on a towel on her shoulder, and walked over, trying to slip the device from under his hand, but John held onto it. "Where did you get this?"

"It was my father's," she replied, quickly, looking into his cold eyes. "He died, three months ago." John was unphased, he just stared at her.

"SPARTAN-288."

"My brother."


	2. Another One Bites the Dust

This is mostly based off of the games, because I haven't read the books. My knowledge of the Halo-verse is pretty limited, so bear with me. If there are any factual errors, I apologize.

_I do not own nor am I in any way affiliated with Halo. I write for the experience and for the fun. Please enjoy!_

John's mind raced back to his days of training. Silas-288 was someone, as a child, he despised. Faster, stronger and extremely aggressive. John could remember grappling with the boy more than once, and he was much younger. But he respected Silas. Although not part of his squad, his encounters with Silas were numerous. He was an incredible sniper with a good sense of hand to hand combat. They last parted ways four years ago. Silas had said something John could never forget. Though they had been trained, tested, and perhaps brainwashed to be a weapon and a machine, Silas had said, with utmost certainty, "When this is all over, I want to see my family." John had never considered this idea. It was made clear they were not allowed to make contact. They were dead. Their parents, friends, siblings. They had been lied to, their fake versions dying of natural causes. If John had gone back, it would be truly horrible. But Silas had said it with such conviction, it had planted something inside of him. The idea that he might be more than a machine. And Cortana had watered it. Over the years the concept had become increasingly more real to him.

"You knew him?" Charlotte's voice was stern and curious all at once. John ignored her, letting each and every memory shatter. Silas was a good... man. His hand tightened around the pad in his hand and he finally raised his eyes to hers.

"No." John moved to leave the kitchen, she stood in his way.

"Why were you asking about him then?" Her tone was tense and angry. John immediately felt her aggression in waves.

"Move," he said sternly, moving a foot closer to loom before her. She refused to budge. It was like a flea commanding a wolfhoud.

"Tell me how you know my brother," she said heatedly, John merely pushed her aside with ease, her shoes scraping on the wood floor. She grabbed his wrist, which she immediately knew was a poor decision. John's hand had flipped, almost instantaneously, smooth and calculated like a art. His hand was now gripping her wrist, slowly crushing her tendon without even knowing it. He had begun to move his other hand, to land a hit in the crook of her arm, but he stopped himself. Instead he merely held onto her wrist and forced her to make eye contact with his steely blue pools.

"This conversation, is over."

"Fine!" she shouted, louder than he had anticipated. He still held onto her tiny wrist. She ripped it from his grasp and quickly clutched it with her other hand. John felt remorseful for all of three seconds, and started for the door. She padded after him. "Give me back my data pad," she said, make a snatch for it. He held it just out of her reach.

"This does not belong to you. I am going to have it destroyed."

"No!" She jumped for it, but missed. The next few moments were spent with her pounding into him with much effort as he attempted to push past her without hurting her anymore. Assaulting a woman in her own home was probably not a very good thing for a soldier to be doing. She had landed a punch on his jaw. If he were a dog his hackles would have bristled. She covered her mouth with her hands and backed away.

"You had better-"

Something bright and blinding. A loud screech, the sound of stillness and complete weightlessness. That was all he could remember. Everything was dark and red. His head felt wet, slick with blood. He rolled to his stomach, and pushed off the ground, quickly ducking behind what used to be the dining room table. Charlotte. John's eyes scanned the debris of her house. He spotted her hand peeking from underneath her overturned couch. The idea of being in danger and armorless made him almost nauseous. He proned and slowly inched to the couch, and flipped it. She was alive. But she was bleeding. He reached down, and easily slipped her over his shoulder. She was lighter than an assault rifle for god's sake.

John assessed his damage; minimal. He'd take some shrapnel to the back of his head, but Charlotte seemed to have a larger wound around her right ear. She needed medical attention. He stepped to the large hole in the side of her home and peered out. It was complete chaos. Dropships were scattered as far as he could see. Screaming, gun fire, the familiar cry of an elite. Damn it. What were they doing? They had a treaty. Something was not right. He needed his armor. He knew that without a single doubt. He needed to make his way back to the Infinity and quickly. Carrying a half-concious woman was going to make it all the more difficult. But he couldn't leave her.

As he was stepped out of the house, an distinctive sound filled the air. He pivoted on his heel in the grass to see the unmistakable glint of an energy sword. The elite holding it raised the digits on it's mouth and rolled into a charge at full speed. John set the woman down, and ducked, missed the hot sear of it's blade by inches. He stood to his feet as the warrior spun around in a smooth movement. In swiped broadly, and he caught it's hand, the sword inches from the tip of his nose. He raised his knee and met the crook of the alien's elbow with a crushing blow. The arm snapped in the opposite direction, the sword falling to the ground and closing with a energetic shudder. John reached down, quickly, whipped open the sword, and plunged it between the plating on the monster's neck, puncturing deep tissue. Colored blood sprung from the wound, the animal screeching in pain, cursing him in it's native tongue. It gargled, and fell to the ground with a groan. John knew the sound would attract it's brother's in arms. He picked up Charlotte, quickly and sprinted behind a row of houses adjacent to the park. There was sufficient cover for him, and he kept to the shadows. He had to paused briefly as a pack of bickering grunts trudged through a backyard. He wasn't far from the ship, but he had also run out of cover. He had to improvise.

The Spartan watched as a jackal took pot on someone's balcony, shield-less and carrying a beam rifle. That was going to be problematic. He set Charlotte down, who mumbled and return, but he placed his hand over her mouth. Behind the brush and shed of some poor family's, he looked her dead in the eye and motioned for her to stay. He turned, squatting to leave the cover of the shed. Charlotte grabbed his arm.

"Be careful." He didn't answer, but merely tucked out in one swift movement. Charlotte questioned if he would return as she clutched her ear in her hand.

John's back was flush against the house. He could hear the metallic sound of a grunt approaching. Timing it perfectly, he reached out as it rounded the corner, and brought it to his chest, disconnecting the tube connecting it's mask to the supply of methane on it's back. The animal gasped and fell to the ground. John detached two plasma grenades from it's arsenal, and padded to a tree facing the balcony of the jackal. Like a complete science he flung the sticky grenade towards the jackal, and it stuck to the creature's muzzle. It dropped it's rifle, which clattered to the ground and fired off a powerful beam. It clawed at the grenade, which exploded it a bright blue light, taking most of the jackal's upper body with it.

He retrieved the beam rifle and returned to Charlotte who was sitting on her knees waiting for him patiently. She seemed relieved to see him.

"I didn't know if you were coming back," she sighed with a smile. John glanced at her, emotionless and motioned for her to follow him. He handed her a plasma pistol, which she stared at. He rolled his eyes, pulled it from her hands, and held onto the trigger. Them muzzle of the weapon gleamed bright green for a moment, before dispersing a ball of energy into the side of a house. Charlotte nodded, and took the gun with light fingers, holding it as far away from her as possible. John just shook his head.

The Infinity was less than twenty yards away. They would have to run and gun it. Well, he would, because it was obvious Charlotte had not dabbled much in the use of alien technology.

"Alright, on three," he whispered, his hand clutching her upper arm, ready to shove her into a run.

"Wait!" she said urgently.

"What?" he hissed. She was going to get them both killed.

"I don't understand, why not leave me back there? To die? You don't know me.

"Because it would be wrong."

She accepted his answer without question and he shoved her into a run. She was quite fast. John followed her, raising the rifle to hit an elite. The beam hit true to it's head and it went down like a sack of rocks. Charlotte made no attempt to shoot, but focused on running towards the bay that was now slowly closing.

"John! It's closing!" she practically screamed, pushing herself hard to run. John whipped his head around, and noticed the large doors lifting from the ground. He set his jaw, and crow-hopped into a full on run. As he easily passed Charlotte, he picked her up by the waist and gained momentum like an angry bull. He wasn't sure if they were going to make it.

Just as the doors were closing, he leaped in, dropping the rifle, and tucking Charlotte into a roll. The landing was painful against the catwalk. John laid there for a moment, letting the pain in his neck, back and head subside. He looked down to his right to see Charlotte's small frame curled into his side. Her hands were covering her ears, her eyes shut tightly. He raised a brow at her, and stood to his feet. She didn't move. He squatted down, and lifted one of her hands, which she attempted to resist.

"We're fine," he said gruffling, dropping her hand and standing to his feet. He really needed his armor. He looked down at her as she sat to her knees, wiping blood from her hands on the thighs of her pants. Her hair was matted with blood, eyes red - from crying he assumed. She was not used to the heat of battle, something he favored. He felt sorry for this woman, but he wanted to shake some sense into her. Sitting around whining was not going to make things better. Perhaps he was being a bit too harsh. She did almost die after all. In human terms, that is a pretty traumatic event (although he had faced death countless times and was fine). He reached down, and grabbed her arm, hoisting her to stand on her feet. She didn't looked at him, and crossed her arms. John didn't speak as he climbed the stairs to the bridge. She followed slowly, and he could hear the soft hiccups from her crying. His eyes rolled habitually.

The bridge was void, save for Lasky who was leaned over a map. His fingers were pushed deep into his temples. John cleared his throat. The lanky, hook-nosed officer turned suddenly to face the Spartan, his hand trained over his gun holster.

"Jesus Chief," he whispered, his eyes falling over Charlotte. He furrowed his brows and gave John an odd look. John couldn't distinguish between curiosity of disappointment. "Who is she?" he asked taking a step forward. 117 walked towards the map silently, and looked down at it. The soft glow of information was comforting.

Charlotte felt awkward, so she stepped towards Lasky and offered him a hand to shake, "I am Charlotte Taggart," she said quietly as he accepted her bloody smeared hand.

"Oh... I knew you father." Lasky sighed inwardly, and looked over his shoulder at the tall man void of armor. "He was a great man Miss Taggart."

"He was." Charlotte smiled softly, "And call me Charlie, please." She felt she was intruding. The bridge was a place for important people, which she was not. "Is there someone I can get, uhm, medical attention?"

"Oh, yes, of course. John knows where it is."

"With all due respect-"

"John, the woman is wounded, show her where the medic is."

"Yes sir." John didn't like men in positions of power. Her stiffened his jaw, and walked back to Charlie. He passed her, silently.

"Nice meeting you," she said, waving to Lasky who watched her leave. He gazed after them a moment before returning to his work.


	3. Do We Have A Deal?

This is mostly based off of the games, because I haven't read the books. My knowledge of the Halo-verse is pretty limited, so bear with me. If there are any factual errors, I apologize.

I do not own nor am I in any way affiliated with Halo. I write for the experience and for the fun. Please enjoy!

Charlie Taggart was not one to complain. She was a military brat, moved from planet to planet, born shipside to a mother who died during childbirth. Her father raised her and her older brother exclusively. He was a great father, who dedicated himself to his children when he wasn't commanding a fleet of ships. His work had always fascinated her. Charlie had once dreamed of becoming a Captain of her own ship. Her father was dedicated to her brother however. Silas had died just as she was born. A sudden bout of cancer. Her father refused to believe it. He spent every penny they had searching for "his real son." Charlie cooked, cleaned and cared for her father who many considered to be crazy. Up until the day he died, she had been skeptic as well. But he left his data pad, and a file. A file on her older brother. He had proof, why hadn't he shown her? The time she had told him to stop chasing ghosts. It was her turn now. She was going to find Silas.

Charlie sat on the cold, metal table quietly. The medic sighed and looked at John who was leaning on the door frame. "She is going to need stitches." John nodded and turned to leave.

"Oh, please don't leave yet," Charlie found herself blurting out. She gave him a pathetic pleading look. The tall man sighed heavily, and resumed his position at the door. Charlie felt better with him around. He had saved her. He was her protector now, somehow.

John was strange. Devoid of anything other than basic instincts. He never smiled, or laughed, or said normal things. When he did talk to was decisive, like orders. Although she was almost half his age, he was attractive. His jaw was strong, his eyes narrow and lackluster blue. Scars adorned the stubble of his jaw and brow. He was rude, and had no manners whatsoever. But, inside him, she could see something. He was different. Broken but manageable. She didn't know why, but she felt she could trust this man.

She closed her eyes tightly as the curved needle started on it's path. She opened her eyes slightly to look at her hero standing in the doorway. He was watching the medic carefully. She didn't know if she saw concern or annoyance on his face. But it hardly moved. Catching cues from that man was like trying to catch the wind with your bare hands.

The stitches went in smoothly, and the medic bandaged her up and gave her specific instructions on how to care for it along with some painkillers. John met her at the door.

"I will show you to your bunk." John began to walk away.

"Can't I just stay with you?"

"Out of the question," he almost hissed. Charlie frowned and writhed the bottle of pills in her hands. She knew she shouldn't ask, but the she still felt very shaken up. She just wanted to be with someone at least semi familiar.

"Please?"

"No." And that was that. John made it clear when he made up his mind. The brunette followed her leader reluctantly to the floor with her bunk. He stopped in front of the door, and avoided her gaze. "I am right next door." Charlie felt a little better.

"Thank you."

"Mm." A man of few words.

"No, I mean, for saving me. You didn't have to do that. Or even come to my house. It means a lot to me, John." She noticed him bristle. He was not used to that name. She felt bad.

"You are welcome." Nothing on his face suggested any emotion was playing behind those stony eyes. He turned to walk away, and she opened the door. His footsteps stopped however and he paused in the hallway. "Next time, try not to ask strange men into your home." He walked away now, leaving Charlie a little surprised he was capable of... Humor?

She opened the door to her bunk, and found it unimpressive. Small, almost completely metal and unappealing. She crawled into the bottom bunk and laid her head on there very unsoft pillow. She closed her eyes, bright blue light seemed to be permanently etched into her mind. Her home. Her house. Her earth. Dying. All dying.

She cried herself to sleep. And there, she dreamed about her brother. Then her father. And finally, about John - and he told her that she needed to learn how to shoot. Because he couldn't be around to save her again.

She was very annoying. Weak, soft, distracting, dangerous, pretty. Wait. John scowled. Pretty? Where on earth had that come from. His fists clenched and unclenched. He needed Cortana. She could explain this. She would show him how it was a good thing. That he should be thankful for these feelings. Tell him he was human. In the pit of him, he could feel those tendrils, boring into every wall he ever erected. Slowly it was taking him down to size. He was unraveling. Rampant. He didn't know if this could happen to other Spartans. He'd heard of them living a normal life. Having families. But did it happen like this? Or was always just a broken man? The loud clank of his boots on the catwalk was relaxing. He longed for his suit. But, he didn't see any point in putting it on just to take it off again. No, he would talk to Lasky, Palmer, as is. Then get some damn shuteye for once.

The bridge was empty save for Palmer and Lasky. John strode up to the table, his eyes narrow slits. Lasky and Palmer looked at him, studying him. Perhaps hoping he would have a plan, a solution. He was silent.

"There is no way we could have foreseen this," Lasky said, massaging the bridge of his nose. Palmer just swore, her hand a fist on the table.

"Goddamn covvies attacking on our own damn soil." She was heated, understandably so.

John didn't look up, just stared at the table. He thought of his home planet, it's people. All gone. Glassed and destroyed. Would earth suffer this fate? The home to all humans. The mother planet. No, he couldn't allow that. The suffering had to stop.

"They knew we weren't prepared," the Spartan said with a hollow tone. They both looked at him with a soft gaze. "They knew we were still celebrating our victory."

"Fucking savages." Palmer was broiling over. Chief looked at her, then to Lasky. What was the plan?

"Who else was docking on earth the time of the attack?" John's voice was cold.

"One other, the Widow Maker, a smaller ship. They were invaded. Last I saw it was a fiery inferno. One other was en route, but it was intercepted. They knocked out most of our coms, but we squeezed out a distress beacon. We barely have any bearings." Lasky went back to massaging his nose.

"First thing is first, how do we can comms back up?" Palmer inserted herself, shifting closer to the two men.

"Well, right now, we can't. Most of the crew was on land," Lasky replied with a sigh.

"Reach," John said sternly, pointing to the small orb representing the planet closest to Earth.

"Chief is right. Reach is out best bet," Lasky nodded, pressing the orb to zoom in. His hands moved in quick succession as he plotted it out. "We're flying pretty much blind. Better pray we're headed in the direction she says we are. We don't have enough rations to be lost in space."

The Chief stared at the board, his mind still in a slow stumble. He would leave Charlie on Reach, where she belonged. He decided that the moment he brought her aboard the ship. She served no purpose here, other than being another mouth to feed. He scraped his hand across the board and left the bridge in the hands of her captain.

The first thing John did was scrounge up some food. The chef was gone, so the kitchen was pretty much free reign at this point. He found an old MRE, and a few bottles of water. He migrated to his bunk, which was thankfully quiet and a free space for thought. He ate his food hungrily, his mind on the thought of landing on Reach. He wondered how much it had changed since his last visit. He drank every bottle of water, and decided to shower before bed. His bunk had been outfitted with one, and he happily washed off the dust of a years hypersleep. He did a routine workout of push-ups, chin-ups and sit-ups before retiring to the comfort of a bed. He felt the relief of his worries when his head hit the pillow. A soft sigh escaped him as he turned to his side. He slipped his hand under his pillow and closed his eyes. Sleep was welcoming.

His sleep was dreamless at first, black and comforting. But, he found himself dreaming of Charlie. It was an exact reiteration of their day together, only as they ran for the bay, she had taken fire. Wounded and dying, she lay on the catwalk. He could almost smell the blood on her breath as she cried herself from this life to the next. He found himself kneeling, holding her head and watching the light fade from her deep cerulean pools. An overwhelming pit of despair hit him. Hard. He was breathless, terrified. As a child he had dreams that made him cry, and eventually he outgrew them. But he could remember them now, and how absolutely horrifying they were.

Something was touching him. John's hand slipped from under his pillow, his boot knife clutched between his fingers like an extension of his being. The blade came to rest on someone's throat as he pushed himself from the bed and slammed the being into the far wall. His hand found the lightswitch, his other firmly pressed into the throat of the intruder. He could feel the bob of them as they gasped for air. The light quickly illuminated her face. John dropped his hand and Charlie fell to the floor on her knees, her hands cradling her bruised throat. John scowled at her.

"What the hell?" He shouted. Charlie coughed, in response. She was bleeding again. John felt bad about that. He reached down and grasped her arm, pulling her to her feet. She had tears in her eyes. He wasn't sure if this was from the pain or otherwise. "What are you doing in here?" he demanded, rotating her and sitting her on the bed.

"I just... I heard a noise, and I didn't know if I was having a nightmare or if the ship was really intercepted. I didn't know what to do, so I came to wake you up... and," she was sobbing now, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her dirty, bloodied shirt. She hadn't showered, or changed. John sighed, and set his jaw.

"Everything is fine. You can go back to your bunk," his eyes were hard as ever, his chest slowly rising and falling. Charlie didn't move. John didn't know how to handle an emotional woman. He glanced at the door, then back to her. Damn.

"Please don't make me go back. I feel so alone." John was at a loss for words. He ran a hand through his thick hair, narrowing his eyes at her. She was very strange. She barely knew him, but felt she could trust him with her life. He didn't know if he respected that, or condemned it.

"Fine," he said with a heat in his voice, "You can get the bunk, I'll take the floor."

Charlie watched him retrieve a blanket and pillow from a compartment. He laid it down on the floor and flicked off the light. She felt much safer in his presence. She slipped under the blanket and laid down. John watched her settle into his bed. It was silent, save for her rickety breathing.

"John..."

He sighed. "What?"

"Do you have any family?"

The question caught him off guard. He didn't honestly know. So he replied simply, "No."

"Me either," she said, a hard note of sorrow. He knew how she felt, he supposed. "I'm sorry I scared you," she added. John felt the tug of a wry grin.

"I don't think I was the one that was scared," he countered, putting his arm over his eyes. He heard Charlie snort and roll over so she was facing him. He moved his arm slightly to see her eyes in the dark. "Go to sleep, Charlie." He used her name and it felt foreign. Like he was addressing his long lost friend, Cortana. He let the taste roll around in his mouth and frowned.

"I can't sleep."

"You've been in there for less than a minute."

"I just know I can't."

John just sighed and moved his arm back over his eyes. "Goodnight." She sighed loudly and pulled the blanket over her head. He felt... glad he had saved her. She was a good person. A little naive, and annoying, but good at heart.

They both fell asleep quickly, and no bad dreams visited them until morning when they awoke. John, naturally was the first awake. He quietly gathered his bedding and put it away. He watched Charlie sleeping, spread on his bed like an exhausted child for a moment. He happily put his armor back on, and left the room feeling much better than he had the day before. In his suit, he was SPARTAN-117. He was unstoppable, unpredictable. Unreadable. Just the way he liked it. The bridge was empty when he reached it, the shop plotting its course to Reach. He inspected the map quietly, his helmet in the crook of his arm. He had yet to eat, but had wanted to visit the bridge first.

Small footsteps behind him caused him to stir. It was Charlie. She'd showered, her wet hair sticking to her pale, washed skin. She was wearing a white shirt and military pants bloused into a pair of combat boots. She'd of made a good soldier. John stared at her a moment. "Good morning."

"Good morning," she replied with a weak smile.

"Civilians aren't permitted on the bridge," Palmer's voice broke the silence. She was stern, her eyes locked onto Charlie like a pair of crosshairs. John didn't move his gaze. "Leave," her head was tilted forward towards the smaller woman. Charlie narrowed her eyes and glanced at the Master Chief with uncertainty. "Don't make-"

"She's leaving," John said firmly as he strode past Palmer. Charlie quickly followed him. Sarah's sharp eyes boring into her. Charlie quickly caught up to John and tried to match his step.

"I didn't mean to cause any trouble..."

"Just stay in your bunk," John said in his same cold tone. He lead Charlie to the kitchen, and gathered his own food. He watched her as he worked on his own MRE. She was cooking. He felt a pang in his stomach for food that wasn't freeze dried. Begrudgingly, he ate his stale crackers. Charlie however, strode over and placed a plate of eggs, bacon and toast in front of him. He looked up at her strangely.

"Eat up," she quipped, sitting in front of her own plate. You didn't have to tell a man to eat twice. He happily forked his food and fleeted a glance at the woman next to him, whom he just couldn't figure out. It irritated him. Infuriating. Without a word, he stood up.

"I'm leaving you on Reach. We're less than four hours from docking, so make sure you're packed," his tone angrier than expected. Charlie stood up, clanking her fork onto the table.

"No! I don't want to-"

"This isn't up for debate."

"I'm not some marine you can order around!"

"Watch me."

"What have I ever done to you?"

"You're just a waste of space on this ship."

John could tell that hit her hard. He felt a hear inside him. He had to detach. She had to know they weren't "friends". That she was distraction, and so long as she was there, he was endangering himself and others. She was right. She was no solider. She didn't belong there.

"You should have just left me on earth. At least I would have died in my own home," she said, tears in her eyes.

"Maybe I should have. But that would have been-"

"Wrong. And abandoning me on some colony with no money and no friends is the right thing to do."

"You can't stay here," John's voice was becoming louder, more firm. She was leaving, and that was that.

"Why not?" she sounded desperate, riding on the cusp of another emotional breakdown.

"Because I said so." He shouted at her.

"But why?"

"Because as long as you're here, I can't think straight. It's too dangerous," he spat out with an acidic glare. His voice gruff and hurtful. Charlie was quiet now, and looked down at her plate. Did she understand now? She was a reminder of what he didn't have, what he couldn't have, what was stolen from him. What deep down inside, he envied others for. He knew that. Cortana was gone, he had no one to sacrifice for. He liked it that way. He looked up as Charlie loudly clanked from the dining hall, her hair bouncing as she stomped loudly up the stairs. John sat down and finished his breakfast in peace.

Thomas sat at the bridge, his head cradled in his hands. He was so lost. He tried to think of something. Anything. But all he could muster up was the cries of women and children as he closed that bay door. How he couldn't help them. How hundreds had died as he sat on this very ship. He felt sick. Disgusted with himself and those who had left earth behind. But what choice did they have? This was the only way the could help. They had to get help. And every other ship was so far away, patrolling, terraforming, or aiding the rebuilding of colonies. It was a miracle they were even there. Lasky raised his head at the sound of someone's boots.

Charlotte's head came into view as she strode without hesitation onto the bridge. Lasky didn't know if he was impressed or outraged. He had known her father however, and therefore he gave her some leniency. He stood up, straightened his jacket and approached her. "How can I help you Miss Taggart?" his voice smooth and gruff all at once.

"I wanted to make some arrangements," Charlotte responded confidently. Thomas quirked an inquisitive brow.

"What do you mean?"

"It seems Master Chief would prefer if I was left of Reach." Thomas could understand this. A ship was no place for civvies. He sighed, and propped a hand on his instrument panel. "And you are in charge of this ship, no?" Thomas nodded.

"But you see Miss-"

"Please, hear me out." Thomas scowled a small ruffled brow, and nodded, gesturing with his hand for her to continue. Charlie cleared her throat, "I noticed, you and your small crew are in need of a cook. I'm sure you don't want to be eating stale crackers and fake cheese for the next few days, and I happen to be a wonderful cook. As well as cooking, I am trained in the use of certain firearms."

"Oh?"

"Yes, my father enrolled me in military school when I was twelve. I was the head of my school and received countless awards for marksmanship. So I wouldn't be completely helpless."

"I see."

"At least let me stay until you have replacement crew and then you can leave me on earth."

"Earth isn't the best place to be right now Miss Taggart, as I'm sure you know."

"I'd rather die in my home, then in some strange colony alone."

"I understand."

"So, do we have a deal?" Thomas rolled the prospects around in his head. He liked her. Off the bat, she seemed young, naive, maybe even immature, but it was obvious to him that his first impression was off. She was just a nice person. Inside, it seemed she kept a few secrets.

"We have a deal," Lasky said, offering her his hand to shake. She took it, giving it a firm wag, and smiling broadly at him. "Now... about that food."


	4. The Key

This is mostly based off of the games, because I haven't read the books. My knowledge of the Halo-verse is pretty limited, so bear with me. If there are any factual errors, I apologize.

_I do not own nor am I in any way affiliated with Halo. I write for the experience and for the fun. Please enjoy!_

**oOo**

They were less than an hour from docking at Reach. Charlie sat at a broad window quietly out of everyone's way. She had happily made breakfast for the whole crew, whom had been incredibly grateful. A small smile was coasting her lips as she leaned back on her hands, stretched behind her, her feet dangling over the ledge she was sitting on. Reach was an incredibly pretty planet, really. She admired it's color, the sight of the sun on it's horizon. She sighed deep in her chest, and enjoyed her moments of silence. She mused the day's prior to her position. Meeting John, inviting him for dinner, the attack, being saved. The night she was so scared she couldn't sleep. She hadn't told John she didn't fall asleep at first. She laid awake, unable to cope with her own mind. The sound of his breathing slowly reassuring her. Her lids were so heavy when she heard him mumble. She rolled over, and watched him turn in his sleep. He sounded so upset. He said someone's name, desperately. Almost pleading. He was troubled, she could tell by the way he tossed and turned all night long. As she considered what could be bothering him, her thoughts were rudely interrupted.

"You went behind my back." Charlie leaned back to see the Master Chief looming over her. His suit on, helmet and all. She sighed and nodded her head, looking back out to the planet they were closing in on.

"Mhm," she replied simply, she could be just as irritatingly silent as him. She relished in that moment, having outsmarted her hero for the time being. She knew she could convince Lasky to let her stay. He was fond of her father, and that was a foot in the door. Her father had always said 'It's about who you know.' John stood there silently, probably fuming in his suit. Unable to stand the silence, Charlotte stood up and faced him, lacing her arms around one another. "Don't underestimate me, John," she said sharply. He stared at her through his gold tinted visor. She was unable to read him properly and that was very aggravating. "I know I seem incapable, but I can hold my own," she added, walking away from him, her hips swaying with confidence. Perhaps too much. John gazed after her. And she smiled to herself.

"Don't underestimate my capabilities either." The way he said it sent chills down her spine. She knew how his enemies must feel. Completely threatened. She turned, slightly, pivoting on her heel to look at him. He gazed out the vast window, the sun glinting off his visor. "I will protect the crew of this ship. Even if it means dragging you off of it."

"We'll see about that." Charlie wrinkled her eyebrows, scowling at the Spartan. She felt so very small in comparison. "What is so dangerous about my presence here? Am I an assassin? Some undercover Covenant spy? What?"

"You're a causality waiting to happen. And not everyone can take death as lightly as you can, Miss Taggart." She was silent for a moment, letting his words sink in.

"Don't think I am some stranger to death. We are well acquainted."

"Yes, sitting on the sidelines." His aim was perfect. The shot hit home. Charlie snapped. The soft blue flame inside her smoldered and roared silently. It was kindling with every sour word he threw at her. She knew he was trying to goad her on.

"Oh what, the big sad Spartan feels more pain than me? Why? Because you fight in wars? Because you've killed people? How dare you assume someone else's pain isn't as real as yours. At leas I own up to it. I don't bury it deep inside me and let it fester to the point where I can't even talk to people." Her chest heaved as she kept back the raw emotion bubbling underneath her. This man hit her from every angle. He saved her, insulted her, kept her safe, but refused to acknowledge how she felt. What was wrong with him? He was broken. Something inside him had been removed. Who could do that to a human being? She felt bad, judging his pain. She didn't know what ghosts plagued him.

"Assumptions are dangerous."

"Quit your cryptic bullshit, you're not impressing anyone." Charlotte turned back on the toe of her foot and walked away. She could feel his eyes on her back and she hugged her side, tears welling up in her eyes. If either of them had their way, she would still be homeless. Void of family. The only person trying her to the life she once had, the small semblance of her home refused to acknowledge her pain. How could he do that?

oOoOo

John stared after Charlotte for a long time. He turned to the massive window and watched as Reach neared them. He had to get a hold on himself. This was exactly why he had to get rid of her. He felt too responsible for her. He'd brought her on the ship. Too risky. He would have to talk to Lacks about this; surely he would agree. Lasky was an agreeable man.

"Look Chief, what harm is she doing being here?" Thomas' voice was sure. John could tell he was solid in his decision.

"She is going to be a problem," the Master Chief offered, his eyes on the officer. Lasky sighed, sitting down in his chair and pressing the heel of his hand into his forehead.

"The way I see it, the pros outweigh the cons," Thomas explained, raising his shoulders. John's jaw stiffened inside his armor. Women. Lasky had no business endangering the crew like this. He liked the man. Respected him. Trusted him. But this decision was unwise.

"With all due respect, Sir, I don't think you are taking everything into consideration."

"My decision stands, Chief." John's eyebrows dug into his skin shallowly. His eyes were hard, with anger. "We're about to land on Reach, I suggest you prepare for that."

"Yes, sir." He responded with as much hidden anger as he could muster. He felt so on edge the past few days. The anger he could easily hide was bubbling closer and closer to the surface. This was unacceptable. He didn't know if she should attribute it to the passing of his good friend, or the gain of Charlie in his life. And no matter how hard he tried to eliminate this problem, she just propped up roadblocks.

The Spartan made his way down to the loading bay, slowly. He took the stairs one at a time, simmering in his head. Alright, he was formulating the plan he and Palmer had gone over with Lasky. They were going to find a mechanic, immediately, get the comms up, and contact the closest fleet. John was heading up a party to acquire supplies as soon as possible, and Palmer was going to make contact with a mechanic and look into requesting more support. Lasky was going to keep tabs on the surrounding skies, and warn them if things got fishy.

John met Palmer in the bay. He adjusted an assault rifle in his hands, and checked the magnum at his side.

"So the girl is staying." Palmer sounded extremely unhappy. John just nodded, a little irked she'd brought it up. He was trying to focus. He counted the grenades on his person, and adjusted his extra ammo. "If it makes any difference, I think she needs to leave as well," Sarah added, loading her battle rifle with skilled hands. She looked at the Chief with those unmistakable eyes of war. She'd seen death, experienced loss, just as he had. John gave one assuring nod, and started off the ramp and onto the ground, Palmer going her separate way with her own small squad.

It was raining, and it was cold. John had forgotten how harsh weather could be. It'd been so warm on earth. The instillation they landed on, was one of the smallest on the planet, often considered the hub of military activity. It was rare to find a base not completely outfitted. But it was the closest and they didn't want to risk rerouting in the dark. His boot sank into the mud, rain pelting his helmet. The sound was relaxing. His eyes scanned the area carefully. Nearby a platoon of marines was doing drill, rain hardly breaking their focus. John thought back to his days in training. Although, he was sure marine's had a tough time, there was nothing that could ever prepare you for the Spartan program. He watched them quietly, before walking in the opposite direction, towards a building nearest the docks. This was probably the best place to find a mechanic.

oOoOo

Charlie sighed, looking out into the rain with a pout on her face. She wanted to visit Reach too. She'd only ever been once, when she was a child. Her father traveled there often, and any trip with him was exciting. The rain fell on the metallic hull of the ship in a monotonous rhythm. The ship was bare save for herself, Lasky and a few foot soldiers, who were ordered to stay and watch the ship. Charlie stopped swinging her feet for a moment, and realized it was very quiet. Moments ago she could here the chortle of the two guards below her feet. Curiously, she descended the stairs two at a time, hopping to the very bottom with a clang. There in the shadows of the bay, she could see two shapes crumpled in the corner. She took a wary step forward, and gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth to quiet herself. The two soldiers were dead. Blood trickled through the catwalk, and hit the floor with the same rhythm as the rain. Charlie backed up, her hand grasping behind her, trying to find the rail of the stairs.

"Oh my god," she whispered, eyes wide with paralyzing fear. She mustered up the energy to run up the stairs, tripping twice and slicing open her forearm on their sharp silhouette. As she reached the top, she could see a small disturbance at the foot of the stairs. The air around the bay was distorted, very slightly. She squinted, her heart throbbing in her chest, screaming at her to run. Suddenly the air crackled with electricity and a bright blue light sprang to life before her eyes. And energy sword. Charlotte couldn't scream, a small gargle escaping her throat. She scrambled into a full on sprint as the distorted blue light climbed the stairs with superhuman speed. Finally Charile screamed, as she roughly rounded a corner. Her shoulder made contact with it, and she groaned in pain and she slipped on the catwalk, falling to one knee. She recovered, barely and limped into a sprint again. Her mind was racing, her heart thrumming so hard she thought she might die. She ran directly to the bridge where she knew Lasky would be. She prayed he was okay.

As she entered the bridge, her heart sank. He wasn't there. She glanced around frantically, rounding the map in the center of the room. Suddenly from behind a panel of instruments, a hand wrapped around her head and cupped her mouth roughly. She tried to scream, but the hand whipped her around, and she was facing Thomas. He pulled her behind the panel, into a small space. He raised his index finger to his lips and shushed her. Her heart ached, her chest falling up and down rapidly. Sweat fell down her brow, blood trickling down her arm, staining her white shirt. Lasky peered from behind the panel then looked back at Charlie seriously.

"Stealth majors. They must've slipped onto the ship before we could close the bay. Bastards."

"How did you know," she gasped for air.

"I found one in my quarters. Unfortunately for him, I'm a deadshot with a magnum." He sighed quietly, placing himself between the opening and Charlie. "Are you alright?" What about Waskowski and Yula?"

"Dead," she responded breathlessly. Thomas swore under his breath. Suddenly however, the two quieted as they heard the sound of metallic voices. They were talking, looking for their human prey. Thomas moved, slightly, so his back would not be exposed. But before he could make a move he was suddenly flung from the opening and out of Charlie's sight. She screamed, and scrambled for the gun on the ground at her feet. She picked up as the blue and white elite stuck it's head into the opening, its three-fingered hand grasping the edge of her shirt. She pressed the muzzle of the gun into his wrist and pinned it into the wall, firing off a shot. It screeched in pain as its hand detached from its wrist and clattered to the ground, still clenching and unclenching. Purple-blueish blood sprayed into her small space, hitting her face and blinding her momentarily. Before she could react, another hand had reached in, and yanked her from the space with amazing strength. She was hanging in midair by the front of her shit for a moment, but it split down the middle, and she fell gracelessly to her knees on the floor. Jarred by the fall and shock, she didn't make an effort to move. The elite's eyes flared as he reached down, pinning her throat with it's powerful digits. She grabbed his wrist with her hands, and attempted to shove him off.

He snarled and neared her face, drool slipping from his mouth digits onto her face, "Where is the key, Heretic?" he growled, tightening his hand on her throat. His other hand raised the energy sword above her, the tip inches from her eye. When she didn't answer, he lowered it, and tightened his grasp even more. "Tell me WHERE IT IS!" What was he talking about? She gasped for air, her vision becoming fuzzy. She pulled and scratched at his hands to no avail. The room was spinning, darkness falling around her.

But suddenly the pressure on her throat was relieved. She rolled to her side, and opened her eyes. The body of the alien crashed to the floor beside her, it's head lolling to the side, split down the middle. She closed her eyes, holding her throat. It was searing, and she coughed up blood into the palm of her hand. Tears stung her eyes, her forearm throbbing in pain. Suddenly she was being hoisted into the air. She lowered her head into her arms and laid still as someone shook her slightly. All at once time, sound, pain, it all came rushing back in an explosion. Charlie gasped and looked up into the familiar gold visor of her hero.

"John..." she whispered.

"Are you alright?" he asked, seriously. Charlotte nodded her head, not even knowing if she was actually alright. He looked down at her stomach, "You're bleeding... "

"Oh," was all she said, reaching down and pressing a hand into the pool of blood. A hot pain shot through her legs. "Oh," she repeated, this time sharp and loudly. He adjusted his grip on her.

"Are these the only ones?" he said looking around at the mangled bodies of the elites. His voice sounded soft for once.

"I... I don't know," she responded, suddenly scared again. She tried not to focus on the pain in her stomach. The round she fired in the space behind the panel much have ricocheted and hit her. She didn't even feel it. "Where is Lasky?" she asked, squirming in his arms to look around at the damage.

"He's alive, but hurt, badly. He will need medical attention."

"Oh, good."

"What were they after?" The Spartan asked, starting to walk from the room to find the medic, who was also, hopefully still alive. Charlie bit her lip, trying to concentrate on other things. She groaned quietly.

"I don't know. One of them asked about a key... I don't even know what that means and why they would think I have it," she said, leaning her head against his cool armor. She was burning up. She didn't even want to think about how she looked. Covered in purple and red blood. Oh goodness... she nearly forgot her shirt was ripped. She blushed somewhat and covered her chest with her arms. John didn't say anything. He just kept walking. They reached the medical bay just as Charlie lost feeling in her legs. "I can't feel my legs," she frowned, looking up John.

The medic was arranging things when he looked up to see the bloody and battered woman he had just patched up yesterday. "What on earth do you do for fun?" Charlie tried to crack a smile. John set her down on the table and turned to leave.

"Oh please, what if they come back?" Charlie said, raising herself onto her elbows, which the medic forced her to stop doing.

"Trust me, they aren't coming back," John said sternly, and walked out the door, retrieving is AR from his back. Charlie laid back and looked at the doctor with a frown.

"He isn't very happy," she said sadly, closing her eyes as the medic went about snipping the rest of her shirt off. "What is the damage?" she said through gritted teeth.

"You'll be fine, you were just grazed. You also broke open the gash on your head, and you acquired another fun and new injury on your arm. You're losing quite a bit of blood collectively."

"Oh, good."

oOoOo

John leaned over the body of his fallen foe. He inspected it carefully and sighed. This was no last minute attack. They were specifically trained for this. They were here for a reason. And apparently, it had to do with that woman. But what? He picked up one of the energy swords and slid the cylindrical handle into his gear. The key. What did they mean key? There was only one thing that got the Covenant agitated to the point of full out war. Forerunner artifacts. But what would posses them to think Charlie had one? She was of no significance. No archeologist.

"Wha... what happened?" John turned to see Lasky lifting his head from the floor. He walked over and hovered a hand over him.

"Don't move sir, we don't know if you broke anything."

Lasky laid back down and clenched his eyes. What on earth had happened? He couldn't remember. All he could think of was being thrown into the panel and blacking out.

"Wait here, I am going to bring a medic back," John said, striding away.

The Master Chief paused before he entered the medical bay, watching as Charlie swallowed to pills and a cup of water per the medic's instructions. She was covered by a thin medical sheet, and this made John uncomfortable. He shifted into the doorway and looked at the doctor.

"Captain Lasky is injured," John said gruffly. He watched the medic gather his things and quickly exit the door, moving around John's massive frame. John turned his attention to Charlie, who had her eyes closed as she rested on the table. Her throat was purple and red from where she'd been strangled. Her arm was bandaged tightly, red seeping through the gauss. Her hair was sticky and matted with purple and red, her face streaked and bruised. He felt bad, but he had to interrupt her.

"What did your mother do?" he said quietly, coming to stand next to her bed. Charlotte's eyes fluttered open and she looked at him quizzically.

"Why? What does that matter?"

"Answer the question."

"Well, she was an archeologist for the military. That is how she and my father met. They were both a part of the team that investigated Forerunner Installations."

John walked to a counter, and reached up, twisting his helmet off and setting it aside. Her scowled, and looked down at the counter. "Did she ever give you anything?"

Charlie frowned, and shook her head, "No, she died when I was born." She ran a hand over her bandaged arm. "But.. she did leave something to me..."

John spun around and approached her, "What is it?" he said, his voice had a note of urgency.

"Well, it's not here, it's in my bunk," she said, sitting up and propping herself on her elbows. John reached under her makeshift blanket and scooped her into his arms, making sure not to look at her, due to her lack of clothing. Charlie tried to protest, but he was already out the door. She swallowed a lump in her throat and bobbed in his arms as he carried her down the hallways to the door of her room. He opened it with his shoulder, and stepped in, setting her on her bed.

"Where is it?" She pointed to the stand next to her bed. He opened the compartment underneath it and reached in, feeling nothing. He scrounged for a moment longer and scowled. "There is nothing in here."

"What?" she shouted, painfully jumping off the bed and looking inside for herself. "Where did it go, I put it there last night!"

"They must have taken it. Someone is still aboard this ship," he was suddenly pushing her into a corner, drawing his AR.


	5. Kamikaze

This is mostly based off of the games, because I haven't read the books. My knowledge of the Halo-verse is pretty limited, so bear with me. If there are any factual errors, I apologize.

_I do not own nor am I in any way affiliated with Halo. I write for the experience and for the fun. Please enjoy!_

**oOoOo**

Charlie's heart was stuck somewhere in her throat as she shielded herself behind the large Spartan. He shifted, calculating, his rifle aimed at the door to her bunk. "What are we going to do?" she whispered, touching his back lightly, trying not to be squished.

"You are going to stay here. I am going to get back that key," John said firmly, walking to the door and kicking it open. He "pie'd" the corner and was about to take a left when Charlie ran to the door and grabbed his elbow, because he was much too tall to grab anything else.

"Wait! No, what if they come back? I don't have a weapon." She sounded frantic, her eyes large plates of blue. John unholstered his magnum, spun it once and handed it to her in a smooth movement. She still wasn't satisfied. "I want to help," she said, her tone sounding a bit more childish than she intended.

"No. Too dangerous," and he turned, pushing her back into the room with one swift movement and slamming the door shut with his foot. Charlie stumbled back and sat on her bed scowling at the door.

"Spartans," she grumbled, bringing the magnum to her face and loading a round into the chamber. She walked to the door and tried to push it open. It wouldn't budge. He had rammed something under the handle. She groaned and sat back down on her bed, toying with the safety on the gun. After a moment, she slipped on another shirt over her bloodied sports bra, happy to be clothed. She wondered if Lasky was okay. The medic too, he was very nice. And even though she didn't like Sarah Palmer, she hoped they would stay away until the threat had been neutralized. The thought of more bloodshed, and all because of something she had, was sickening. Those poor people...

oOoOo

As John shut the door with his boot, he turned around, walked into a bunk opposite of Charlie's and grabbed a chair. He rammed it into place under the doorknob and walked away briskly. As he made his way down the corridor, his AR raised to his eye, he scanned each section, looking for that familiar glint. He approached the stairs leading up to the bridge, and paused, looking over his shoulder once more before walking up the stairs. There he saw Lasky being pushed onto a stretcher with the medic at his side. So whoever was in the ship... hadn't come up the stairs. They would have surely seen them. That meant they were still downstairs - but he'd cleared the corridor and almost every bunk was locked and secured.

Suddenly it hit him like a ton of bricks. He'd never looked in Charlie's bathroom. He couldn't move fast enough. He leaped down the stairs in one stride, and slid across the catwalk. The corridor seemed so long. As he sprinted around the corner, a scream echoed down the hallway. He ran up to her door, kicked the chair from under the lock, and ripped open the door, nearly tearing it from its hinges. The body of an elite lay on the floor, it's head mangled, and two jagged wounds through it's stomach let John know it was surely dead.

"Charlie," he said gruffly, kicking open the door of the bathroom, to find it was empty. He glanced around the room, and finally looked down as he head a small groan. She was laying under the corpse, sufficiently pinned between it's mass and the hard, grated floor. He quickly flipped it over and kneeled down to inspect her. In her hands she was clutching a silver chain.

"I got it," she sighed, a smile stitched onto her lips. She had a cut on her face, but other than that looking generally battered, she was fine. John let out a pent up sigh and shook his head.

oOoOo

Charlie stood in the middle of her room, trying to imitate John's spinning maneuver. She dropped the gun and sighed, leaning down to fetch it from the floor. A noise in the bathroom caused her to whip back up and point the gun in its direction. As if in slow motion, the door was flung open and a large black and purple monster stood in it's wake. She spun around and ran to the door, kicking it repeatedly, screaming various vulgar words, as if it would help. The alien screeched, and reached forward, his large hand easily fitting around her neck. He yanked her towards him, her back flush with his front as he whipped out his sword. It rang out a energetic death call, and Charlie saw her life flash before her eyes. Her mother, her father, Silas, John, and her mangled corpse crumpled on the floor of her room. The elite long gone, returning the key to its superiors. Mankind on the brink of distinction. All because of her.

"No," she breathed, the magnum in her hands suddenly felt like a tool of utter destruction. Before she could think, breath or even feel the fear anymore, she had pointed the gun at the creatures' foot, shooting off a round. It screamed, its grip loosening just enough for Charlie to yank herself free. She whipped herself around, her arm coming to swing before her face, the gun aimed in perfection. Three rounds hit the creature's face with masterful marksmanship. She didn't stop. And she hadn't realized she was screaming, continuing to fire at it's head until it's sword had clattered to the ground. She still wasn't done. She picked up the sword, whipped it open as she had seen John do, and plunged it into the alien's chest. Purple sprayed from it's wounds like a fountain. She pulled back, and plunged once more, this time twisting the sword void of mercy. The elite stood there, stuck in agony, Charlie reached up, yanked the necklace hanging from it's other hand. Suddenly, death struck the beast, and it fell, all its weight coming down on the petite brunette. She found herself painfully pinned under its corpse, and struggling for air. Thankfully, an unknown force had ripped open the door. She groaned at the sound of her name, and was quickly released from her prison. She blinked at the sight of John's face, a drunken grin on her face. She held out her hand, exposing a small silver orb, glowing softy with a blue hue.

"I got it." She was pleased with herself, and she knew under his helmet, John was pleased too. She reached up and ran the back of her hand over her face, pulling it away to see it slick with blood. She hadn't even realized she had been wounded. Everything seemed so fast, but so slow. She sat up, and John leaned forward to help her.

As she stood unsteadily to her feet, and he assisted her, she looked up to see a blue glint at the doorway. Her first thought was another stealth major. But no, it was smaller, and the blue with brighter, and ringing. Before she could react to what she had just realized, John was shoving her into the bathroom and slamming the door shut. She screamed at him to run, but somewhere deep inside she knew how pointless that was. As she dropped to her knees, she heard the loud, screeching explosion of the plasma grenades. Shrapnel, and what she assumed was chunks of the kamikaze grunt pelted the bathroom door. She pushed her hands over her ears, her head between her legs. Her fears were not for herself, but for John who had saved her, once again. She kicked the door as she sat on the floor, it didn't budge. Again, and harder another. She stood up, braced herself against the back wall, and used both feet to kick it. The door exploded outwardly, and she quickly crawled out, glancing around the room. The bed was mangled, feathers still floating in the air from the pillow. Blue splattered the walls, unidentifiable pieces of grunt. And on the floor, John laid motionless.

"Oh god no," she whispered, choking back a sob. "John wake up," she said more loudly. She attempted to shake him, as he laid there unmoving. His body was sprawled out, pieces of shrapnel imbedded in his armor, his AR still clutched in his right hand. Charlie, now unable to hold back her tears leaned forward and tried to pry off his helmet, a nice sized piece of mangled metal stick in between his helmet and his upper suit. She noticed a generous pool of blood originating there and frantically pulled and twisted his helmet until it came off with a hissing sound. His eyes were closed, and she was unsure if he was breathing or not. "Wake up, please," she begged him, sobbing as she pulled the metal from his skin. She didn't know if that was the right thing to do, but she did it anyway. She pressed the palm of her hand over the wound and kept it there, leaning over his face, looking for any signs of consciousness. The blood was slowing, and that couldn't mean anything good. Her sobs became more violent as she thought about he was going to die, and all because he had to be a goddamn hero. She would have happily died in his place. She was useless. He was not... he had saved her, saved thousands of people. John was someone the world needed. And she wasn't ready to let him go. She leaned down then, without thought, and pressed her lips against his.

Suddenly his eyes fluttered open, and he coughed on a lungful of air. She pulled back, and dragged her hand over her eyes to hide her tears. She smiled then, awkwardly and kept her hand on his wound. He blinked, found her eyes and narrowed his own.

"I'm hurt," he stated, seeing the blood on her cheek. She nodded, and gave him a look of desperation. "Take off your shirt," he said suddenly. Charlie was taken aback and looked at him in shock. "Tie it around my neck so you can go get help," he said with a sluggish roll of his eyes. Charlie obeyed and took it off, wrapping it around his neck and tying it roughly. John didn't move, but she could tell it hurt.

"I'll be back. With help," she promised, grabbing a jacket from the mess in her room, and pulling it over shoulders. She zipped it up to her chin, and took off out the door.

oOoOo

Charlie returned with the medic, who seemed to be very tired of fixing people. He went about patching up John, whilst shaking his head and grumbling. Charlotte stood in the door frame, her hand at her mouth as she nervously chewed her thumbnail.

"Is he going to be alright?"

"He'll be fine, the blood makes it look worse than it is. Smart of you to apply pressure though, he could have lost a lot more blood than he already has."

Charlie looked relieved. John pushed through the pain of being stitched up and patched away. As the medic left, he looked at the woman who this time had saved his life. He was a bit unhappy that he felt in debt to her now. His eyes softened, however, and he picked up his helmet, holding it in the crook of his arm.

"Thank you," he said, a little hesitance in his voice. He felt strange. Like the calm after a storm. Charlie seemed antsy, and he gave her a quizzical look. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice hoarse. She merely nodded, wrapping her arms around her stomach. He was not good with deciphering weird and unwanted female emotions. He just chalked it up to stress, and left it at that.

"Where is the key?" he asked then, approaching her and closing the gap between them. Charlie held out the silver chain, the blowing orb swaying on the end. The Spartan inspected it between his fingers and set his jaw. What could they possibly want with this? If it was so important they were sending their whole goddamn fleet to earth, it was powerful, and would sway this war incredibly in their favor. "I will hold on to it for now," John sighed, taking it from her and depositing it into a small pouch on his suit. He looked at her again, and noticed the small cut on her face, "You should get that cleaned up." He walked away then, avoiding anything else he might say. He was feeling incredibly human, having faced death in that way. And something small and persistent was eating away at him. He was right about one thing, having her aboard the ship was dangerous - but leaving her on Reach, was even more dangerous. For a moment he considered how much of a mistake that would have been. Reach could have very well suffered the same, if not a worse fate than earth (although he had no idea the extent of their attack).

John met up with Palmer at the medical bay, due to Lasky's injuries, he was confined to bed rest. He looked pale, and was very sluggish. The medic made it clear he was fine, but suffered a few broken bones as well as a concussion and some internal damage.

The Master Chief approached his superior officer, opening his mouth to speak, but Lasky beat him to it.

"Is Charlotte alright?" he asked, shifting on the bed, his bruised eyes concerned. John nodded. Lasky eyed the bandage on his neck and sighed. John could sense he was upset. Upset he had let his crew down. John was going to change the subject, but Sarah spoke up from the corner of the room.

"She is a problem, sir. With all due respect, she shouldn't even be here. She has endangered everyone on this ship, including you." Her voice was acidic, aggressive, the eyes of someone who had their mind set of hatred.

John spoke up then, "She was in possession of a Forerunner artifact," he sounded slightly defensive, his face revealing only subtle cues. Sarah noticed.

"She almost got Lasky killed, as well as you," she responded, narrowing her eyes.

"She did not know she was harboring something the Covenant wanted. If she hadn't come aboard, it would be in their possession, and who knows what it is capable of." Palmer couldn't retort with anything, so she merely fixed her gaze on Lasky. He sighed, closing his eyes.

"He's right Sarah. And I'm not dead. Neither is Chief. Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades." He chuckled somewhat, but winced at the pain. "She stays."

Palmer looked incredibly displeased. Lasky gestured they both should leave. "I've been ordered to rest, so I leave the ship in your capable hands," he sighed.

"Yes sir," the two Spartans replied in unison. They departed together, Sarah walking beside John in step. He really didn't want to talk to her. She was a fellow solider, yes, someone to respect, to trust, to fight for, to fight with, but she was also incredibly... awkward. They passed Charlie in the hallway, he was staring at the ground, her hands still hugging her sides. John paused and touching her shoulder lightly. Sarah refused to stop, and kept walking, her nose slightly in the air.

"I'm fine," Charlie said before John could ask, a weak smile on her lips. John wasn't convinced. "I promise," she added softly.

"You seem..." he trailed off, staring at her, his cold, hard eyes focused on her mouth. He blinked, looking up into her eyes. "Different." It was true. Despite being wounded, yelled at, devoid of a home and family, Charlie was always optimistic, annoyingly so. But now, she seemed like a ghost. Walking and speaking, but with no soul. John turned so he standing next to her. "You need rest," he stated, putting his hand on her back and walking back towards the bunks. Charlie stopped however and shook her head.

"I don't want to go back there," she said, her voice unstable.

John thought for a moment and nodded. He turned around, and guided her down a pair of stairs she had never been before. They took a right turn, and went through a pair of doors that opened themselves. The entered a room with a large window. It was empty, save for a small, old militantly grade cot and a some crates. John made her sit down.

"This is where I have been going to think. You can use it until you feel better." Even John noticed he was being uncharacteristically kind. So he turned to leave.

"Will you stay? Just until I fall asleep?" she asked softly, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. John paused, and nodded, going back to stand in front of the window. He looked out it, his face hard with thought. He heard her shimmy under the blanket. It was quiet, save for the gentle drum of machinery.

"I'm going to bring the necklace to a specialist on Reach," John said, unsure why he was telling her this. She wasn't an officer, or even a fellow soldier. Although, the necklace was her property, and he supposed she had a right to know. She didn't say anything. "I'm going to take you with me. You might know something about it," he added. She stirred in the cot.

"I'd like that," she said simply. John looked over his shoulder.

"Like I said... you might know something."

"Okay," she said, yawing and pulling the blanket up to her chin.

John stood by the window for a long time. Long after he heard her breathing slow as she fell asleep. He didn't want to leave her alone. Every time he had before, she had been hurt. He didn't know if that was the only reason, but he decided it had to be. A machine... a weapon was not capable of caring about someone. Cortana was the exception. They had faced life and death together, been there for one another, saved each other. They were almost one person at times. That was different. The thought of his long lost friend made a dull unfamiliar pain rise in his chest. The same pain he felt when he thought Charlie might be dead as he raced down the hallway back to the room.

As he walked back towards the stairs, John paused by her bed and moved the blanket back over her, his eyes looking over her face as she slept. He would stay. And leave before she woke up. She didn't need to know he was watching her.


	6. The Doomsday Device

This is mostly based off of the games, because I haven't read the books. My knowledge of the Halo-verse is pretty limited, so bear with me. If there are any factual errors, I apologize.

_I do not own nor am I in any way affiliated with Halo. I write for the experience and for the fun. Please enjoy!_

_(__**Warning: **__This chapter does contain a sexually explicit scene, but I have it perfectly advised before it starts. If you'd rather skip it, it is perfectly possible. I debated writing it or not, but I figured it should be there for those interested, and those not can easily overlook it!)_

**oOoOo**

The sky was completely black, the sun blotted out by massive covenant ships. Charlie was running through the ship, headed for the cargo bay. She was still in her jacket, bloodied and battered from the day before. As she sprinted with every ounce of energy within her, she approached the stairs of the cargo bay, and slipped in something wet. She was flung down the stairs, and hit the foot roughly, her face scraping the grated catwalk floors. She lay there a moment, and groaned. She was laying in something. Something wet, like what she had slipped in. She pushed herself to her knees, and looked down at her hands. She spread her fingers, and saw the red, sticky substance all over her clothes and skin. It was blood. She suddenly noticed the blood was slowly dripping from above her. She was so scared to look up, but she did. Hung gruesomely from several chains was the remaining crew of the ship. Lasky, the medic, Sarah, three men she didn't know... but where was John? She stood to her feet, backing away from the mass grave before her. She was shaking violently, her hands clutching her thrumming heart through her stained jacket. A loud crash made her jump, her head whipping to the stairs. The body of an elite lay on the bay floor, having been thrown down the stairs. An energy sword was plunged into it's neck. John jumped from the stairs, and reached forward, slipping the blade from where it sat, and wiping it on the elite's chest. Charlie was relieved to see him. She stepped forward, but something was wrong... he looked at her. But it was different. Not annoyed, nor soft, like the night before. It was... animalistic. As if she were an enemy. He pointed the sword at her, the blue glow glinting off his gold visor. Charlie shook her head. With one swift movement John had crossed the room and was pressing her against the hull with his forearm. Her feet were scraping the floor, her throat screaming in pain as he held her there. Every move he made was not calculated, nor mechanic, but fevered. Like an animal. It was so different, she almost believed she was dreaming. She tried to speak to him, but her throat was closed shut by the force of his wrist. Suddenly, something very strange happened. He dropped his arm, and she fell to the ground with a clatter. Sweet air filled her lungs in a fiery rush. John reached down however and grabbed the front of the jacket with one hand. With the other he used the sword to slice it down the middle. Charlie was confused, and clutched at her jacket, pressing the side together. John seemed angered by this and reached forward, grasping a handful of her sticky brown hair in his hand. He yanked her head back so hard she thought he might have killed her. The next few moments were very fuzzy, the pain in her neck making anything other than pain unmemorable. Her jacket had come off, and he was doing the same to her pants. In a sudden realization of what he was doing, she screamed and attempted to run, or crawl, away. John easily stopped her, reaching down and grabbing her throat once more. He hoisted her through the air and slammed her into the wall, bringing the blade of the searing sword against the core of her throat. He lowered his helmet to her face and whispered in a voice that was not his, but that of a metallic elite, "Don't move," and then everything went dark...

Charlotte sat up in bed, sweat falling down the back of her head in small beads. Her skin was crawling, her eyes frantically glancing about the room. A cold chill ran down her spine and she sighed. Only a dream. A terrible dream. She clutched the blanket against her chest and looked down to see her stomach was bleeding somewhat from her wound. She must've really been worked up. She slid out of the bed and a magnum clattered to the floor. John must have left it, just in case. She picked it up and followed the stairs back up the main floor. She felt very exposed as she walked the hallways alone. She clutched the gun in her hand as she rounded each corner. The circumstances were so similar to her dream. Everyone was gone, a strange lull had fallen over the ship. She made her way towards the bridge, and was relieved to find Sarah there. She sighed.

Sarah turned around, her eyes brows rutted downwards, "What are you doing up here?"

"Oh... I just couldn't find anyone."

"Well, now you can leave," she sighed, turning back to the map. Charlie scowled.

"What have I ever done to make you hate me so much?" she found herself saying. Sarah's back went rigid, and she turned slowly to face the much smaller woman. She leaned against the table and crossed her arms.

"You're a distraction. You're a casualty waiting to happen, Taggart. I see the way he looks at you... " she said, her voice hot. Charlie raised a quizzical brow. She meant John. That was ridiculous. The only look she ever got from him was annoyance. "Now, get off my bridge," she said, turning back to the table.

"How do you know my last name?" Charlie asked, crossing her arms. Sarah paused, her hands coming to fall by her sides. Charlie took a step forward and asked in a very frantic tone, "You knew Silas! Where is he? Is he alive?"

Sarah whipped back around and gave Charlie a deep, annoyed scowl. "Get out," her voice was lined with hatred. Something Charlie didn't understand. She'd never done anything to warrant such an emotion. Unless Sarah was redirecting it..

"You loved him didn't you? His file said he transferred to another squad because of irreconcilable circumstances." Charlie was piecing it together quickly. If John gave you any hint of what Spartan's were capable of, Silas did not, love her back. Charlie frowned a little, and looked up to see Sarah's eyes wide and intense. Before she knew what to do, the woman was making a move towards her. Just in time, a green mass stepped in between them. Charlie sighed with relief.

"Charlie... " John's voice was firm, Charlie looked up at the back of his head. "Shouldn't you be making the crew breakfast?" he said. Charlie didn't stay to see what words they exchanged. She quickly climbed the stairs back down to the kitchen. But decided she would rather like to shower first. She used John's bunk and was grateful for the hot water. The floor of the shower was pink with blood. Her hair, her skin. She didn't realize how awful she looked. She felt a little embarrassed having been walking around like that. After her shower, she managed to rummage up some more pants and a clean brown fatigue shirt. She then went down to the kitchen to make the crew breakfast. With lackluster, she made scrambled eggs and hash browns. After she was finished and had handed it out to the few people left to feed, she sat down at her own table. Sarah ate with the few soldiers she had brought on Reach the day before, the medic ate with a woman she hadn't seen before, someone Sarah must've picked up. Perhaps another doctor. Lasky was obviously on bed rest, and John had yet to claim his own food.

Charlie stabbed at her food, but didn't eat. Her dream was still bothering her. She couldn't focus on anything else. And... what she had done to John as he laid on the floor. When she believed he had been dead. She took a bite of her eggs and chewed slowly, resting her forehead against her hand, which was propped up by the table. A shadow fell over her and she looked up to see John. She wanted to feel happy to see him, but she just felt awkward. She straightened up, and avoided his gaze. He set his helmet down and sat down with a plate of food. He looked at her slowly, and must have noticed she wasn't up for talking. They both ate in silence, and as they finished, John cleared his throat.

"Sarah is just looking out for the best interest in her men," he said slowly, thinking that must be what was bothering Charlie. She just nodded an understanding nod and picked up her plate, walking away to do the dishes. John followed her with his own plate. "Are you alright?" he said behind her as she clattered around the kitchen. She was thinking about what Sarah had said now. I see the way he looks at you.

"I'm fine," she responded dully. Her emotions were wreaking havoc with her head. What did it all mean? The dream, that kiss, if you could call it that. And John couldn't decide if he wanted to cold towards her, or kind. She slammed a pot into the sink and began scrubbing it. She was entertaining the idea of staying on Reach. At least there she could avoid being eviscerated again. And Sarah would be happy. Maybe John would too. Charlie spun around to face him, "I want to stay here. On Reach I mean," she said. She wanted to see his reaction more than she actually wanted to stay. He didn't move. Not a single facial cue.

"Alright. I'm sure we can find you lodging somewhere n-" Charlie had turned back around washing the dishes with anger. John cleared his throat, but Charlie spoke first.

"I am fine, thank you Master Chief," her voice was loud, harboring a few glances into the kitchen from the crew. John shifted uncomfortably. He didn't know how to respond, so he just nodded and left. Charlie went back to washing her dishes.

oOoOo

John could understand a lot of things. He understood love, from a standpoint. Affection was something he could see and accept, but nothing he could feel. Fear - he felt, but set aside. Some people weren't able to do that. He understood that. But for all that he knew, he did not understand that woman.

He stood in the hallway, looking down at the silver chain in his hand. The soft glowing orb dangled at its end. John tried to think about its intended use. It was very small, it couldn't be capable of much. No matter how much he tried to focus on the orb, the plan, the situation at hand, Charlie just came up in his thoughts unwelcomed. He scowled under his helmet and pushed it back inside its pouch. The hallway rang with his heavy footsteps as he made his way towards the cargo bay. Smaller footfalls caused him to turn. Charlotte jogged up to his side, without saying a word. He wondered if that was on purpose. Within a few moments of silence, she said something.

"I've decided to stay, just so you know." Her voice was careful, as if testing waters. John seemed unaffected. He didn't respond except to gaze at her. She turned her head away from his eye and sighed, crossing her arms, "Reach is too sunny for my liking," she added, with an obvious tone that showed she was lying. John was amused by her innocent demeanor. She was like a little girl at times. "Anyway, what is the name of this 'specialist'?"

"Doctor Hanes," he said simply, adjusting the battle rifle strapped to his back. They descended the stairs to the bay, Charlie taking every stair with a small footfall, John skipping two at a time. He found her size amusing too. He wasn't aware adults came in mini sizes. He felt the tug of a smile under his helmet, and quickly cleared his throat. He nodded at the two soldiers guarding the bay and stepped off the ramp into the sunlight. Charlie raised a hand to her brow to block the pillars of light, and followed John. She lagged behind a moment, taking in all of her surroundings. The base was very small. Smaller than her home on earth.

The building wasn't far from the ship. John kept a steady pace, as Charlie struggled to keep up with him. She didn't complain however, finally giving up and following with a brisk jog. The building was actually a house. John knocked on the door and an old man answered. He was short and stout with a small white beard and beady blue eyes. His face was worn, but with wrinkles from laughter. He wore a flannel shirt and khaki pants, something Charlie could not imagine her own aged father in,

"Hello, how can I help you?"

"Dr. Hanes, we have something we'd like you to take a look at."

"Oh, well of course, come in come in. A young lady was here earlier. She said you would be coming. Now, where is the artifact?"

John pulled out the necklace and handed it to the man. The doctor put on a pair of spectacles and rolled the artifact around in his hand. He hummed to himself and walked over to a large work bench in what would have been a living room.

"This is very curious," he said, sliding the small piece under a microscope. "Definitely Forerunner," he added, adjusting the dial on his scope. He looked up to Charlie and pointed at a bookshelf, "Would you kindly hand me the third book on the top shelf?" he said, not realizing she wouldn't be able to reach it. Charlie stood on her tiptoes and jumped to get it. John took a step behind her and reached over her, easily sliding the book from it's place. Charlie scowled a rather pathetic scowl, and John handed the book to its owner. The old man quickly flipped through it, wetting his thumb and turning each page whilst mumbling.

"Aha, here," he said, pointing at a page. "It reminds of something I first saw when I was a young man. The Covenant called it 'The Key'. It as a doomsday device, or sorts," he said, looking up from his book at John and Charlie. Charlie's heart fluttered. She had been wearing the end of the world on her neck since she was five. Had her father known? "There were only two Keys, one of them had lost its power and sent to a lab to be broken down for inspection. The other disappeared. This trinket itself is not the device, but merely the catalyst. It activates a much larger artifact, which, we suspect, has the capacity to wipe out the human race entirely. It was created as a bit of a failsafe, but was never used," Hanes said, closing the book with a snap. He looked at John, "I trust you want to destroy it." John nodded. "Very good. But," he said with a sigh, walking over to his kitchen where he picked up a cup of tea, "The device is not in our possession. It never was. Just the keys. They had been separated at creation, and placed on different Installations."

"Where is the device?" John said, his voice gruff with worry.

"Well, the Covenant has it," the Doctor said, an odd smile on his face. The predicament seemed to excite him.

"Why don't we just destroy the key then" Charlotte said, picking it up. Hanes shook his head frantically.

"Oh no, no, we can't do that. We have no idea what repercussions there might be. Destroying the key by force, could very well set off the device." Charlie frowned looking down at the small piece. She thought of all the times she'd nearly lost it, or broken it. The idea of the fate of the human race hanging from her neck was astounding. "Where did you find it, may I ask?" the Doctor said, swirling a finger in his tea.

"Oh, well-" Charlie started. But John broke in.

"Classified Doctor, you know the drill," he said quickly, taking the Key from Charlie and placing it back in it's pouch. "Thank you for your time." The Doctor nodded and showed them the way to the door.

"Oh, and one more thing, 117..." Hanes said, leaning on his door frame. John stopped and turned his head slightly, "Don't let that any harm come to that pretty young lady. It would be a shame," he said, winking at Charlie and going back into his house. Charlotte felt very disturbed by this and looked at John, who gazed back silently. He started forward, a bit more slowly now. He was thinking, calculating. If they were going to destroy the device, they would need to do it as soon as possible. Going through the top brass could take weeks, and it was obvious that the Covvies were on the move, looking for Charlie and her Key. No. He would do it himself.

"What is the plan?" Charlie piped up, swinging her arms back and fourth. John was silent for a moment.

"I'm going to destroy the device," he said slowly, sounding completely sure of his choice. Charlie's eyes brightened.

"When are we leaving?" she said excitedly. John stopped, and it took Charlie a moment to do so as well. "What?"

"You aren't going."

"Why not?"

"Too dangerous."

"Oh come on, haven't I proved myself by now?"

"This is completely different." He was beginning to sound annoyed.

"I am going. That is MY necklace." She did have a point.

"Technically it is stolen ONI property," John said quickly, looking down at her sharply. He wasn't impressed with the Taggart family morals thus far.

Well, technically it doesn't belong to anyone." She countered, crossing her arms. "I've kept it safe all these years, why can't I be the one to destroy it?"

"Because I said so." He started walking again, quickly now. Charlie jogged and stood in front of him.

"John, don't you understand, this is all of my mother I have left... " her voice sounded unstable. He clenched his teeth and stared down at her through his visor.

"And if you get hurt?"

"Then I'll sew myself back up."

"And if you die?"

"You wont let that happen."

oOoOo

John eventually, unhappily agreed to let Charlie go. Palmer and John discussed the plan of attack over dinner, and Charlie happily ate alone. She was excited about even be including, although everyone but her was not happy about it. She cleaned up the dishes and retired to her new bunk, which she now shared with John (which he was also extremely unhappy about). She opened the door to find John doing pushups on the cold grated floor. He didn't look up as she tiptoed around him to the bathroom. She cleaned her face and brushed her teeth, changed into jogging pants and exited the bathroom. Her bunkmate was now doing chinups on a bar in the doorway. She sighed, crawled into the bed and crossed her legs, watching him.

"Does exercising ever get boring?" she asked, wriggling her nose. John didn't answer. He finished his last set and dropped to the ground.

"No." He grabbed a towel and wiped the back his neck, looking down at the woman in his bed. "Does talking incessantly ever get tiring?" he countered, looking at her with a soft gaze. She rolled her eyes.

"Nope." She watched as he entered the bathroom, leaving it opened a crack. He took off his shirt, and as she leaned over to see, she, in true Charlie fashion, fell off the bed. John peered out the door at her, and she sheepishly rubbed the back of her neck. "I was... looking for something on the floor. And. Fell." He didn't say a word, just went back into the bathroom and closed the door. She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "You are one attractive woman Charlie."

When John emerged from the bathroom, Charlie was on the floor, laying in his makeshift bed. She smiled and her gaze fell to the bed. "Your turn."

"No, you should sleep on the bed." He sounded annoyed, as per usual. She faux scowled.

"No, honestly, we should take turns. It's only fair."

"You're wounded," he explained, pointing up and down her body, which, to be fair, was riddled in various wounds.

"So are you," she countered raising her eyebrows. He set his jaw and leaned down, picking up her blanket and pointing to the bed. She shook her head.

"Get in the bed Charlie." She refused to move. He didn't appreciate his authority being questioned. Especially in his own bunk. Finally, he reached down to scoop her up, as he had done many times before. However, she was somehow prepared and dodged him, rolling to her side. "This is not funny," John said, annoyed she had evaded him.

"I think it's hilarious," she said grinning like a fox. John was determined now. He set his foot so she couldn't move away this time, and picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder with ease. "Hey, this is cheating," she said loudly in protest. She punched the middle of his back, which did absolutely nothing in terms of defense. He roughly adjusted her on his shoulder as she squirmed.

"Stop moving," he said tossing her to his other shoulder. Charlie wriggled and kicked as hard as her little body would let her. Finally, he tossed her onto the bed. But she was not giving up yet. In some freak movement, she leaped from the bed and onto the floor again. "What are you, a spider monkey?" he asked irritated. He narrowed his eyes and she ripped the blanket from his hand and laid it back over her body. "I will not ask you again." This was a challenge of power, and he was not going to be losing. He grabbed the blanket once more, tossed it aside, and leaned down to pull her up again. But she was anticipating this. She kicked his foot so he fell to the ground above her. What she had planned on, was his being inches away from her. For a moment, he looked down at her, his cold, hard eyes seeming soft, human. She felt something. Like the dream, like the day in her room as he lay losing blood on the floor, and she did something incredibly foolish. She kissed him. Briefly. But enough for John to push her down, pinning her shoulders to the floor roughly. "What are you doing?" Charlie blushed, speechless. She didn't even know how to respond. John watched her for a moment, and released her, standing to his feet. Charlie stood as well.

"I'm sorry, it was stupid, I know. It's just, I had this dream, and I know that sounds-"

"Did I give you permission?" John said suddenly, and Charlie could see the anger behind his eyes. She had really done something he did not like. She felt like an idiot. She could feel the sting of oncoming tears behind her eyes.

"... well no-"

"Then what would posses you to think doing that would be acceptable?" he said hotly.

"I don't know. Please, just forget it happened," she said quickly, approaching him. John put a hand up, a temporary barrier between them.

"Don't touch me," he said with a stern glare. "This is why you should stay. I think I have made a big mistake," he said, his eyes far off as he looked at his boots. Charlie shook her head.

"It was just a stupid mistake John, please don't-"

"Stop calling me that," he said louder than his last words. Charlie scowled, and crossed her arms.

"What should I call you then?"

"You don't know me."

"Because you wont let anyone know you."

"And you think you have some right to know me? That is very childish."

"I am not a child!"

"You've yet to prove otherwise. You shouldn't even be here."

"Fine!" she shouted at him, seething.

"Get out," he said, glaring at her. He didn't even want to have to deal with her. Charlie didn't budge.

"No."

"I will make you get out." He moved forward and grasped each of her shoulders in his hands. She struggled, but he easily moved her towards the door. She pushed against him, hard. John didn't even notice, just pushed her harder. She managed to slip from him, and under his arm. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back with one swift movement. John growled under his breath and miscalculated his strength. She slipped and fell back against the wall next to the door. Without hesitation, John pinned her there between his chest and the wall, and lowered his head. He placed his lip on hers roughly. Charlie couldn't move. His right hand found her wrist and he held it against the wall at her waist. She didn't fight back. Not even when his other hand found the small of her back. She felt like melting into him. Since they had met, he had touched her in many places, but not like this. And it was so strange.

John had never kissed anyone before, save for as a child - but it seemed incredibly natural. He bit her lower lip, and she seemed to like that, so her did it again. Her right hand found the side of his face, and he noted that. He noticed the increase in his heart rate, as well as hers. The sound of urgency in her voice whenever he separated his lips from hers. She parted his lips, and used her tongue, which was very strange, but nice. He could feel a strange heat falling over him, something he knew he had never felt before. Something suppressed and spit down inside of him. Something his creators had intended to destroy. Something human and new that he had never experienced. For once, he felt a little scared. He wasn't used to feeling things of this caliber. Feeling sadness, anger, small moments of happiness... but never... desire, if that is what it was.

**= FOLLOWING SCENE IS EXPLICIT! =**

Suddenly, his body was making movements he had no say in it. He lifted her up and moved her to the bed. His kissing more fervent, more frantic. Charlie tried to keep up. Before she knew it, his hand was under her shirt. She groaned but quickly stopped his hand, looking him in the eyes seriously, "John..." she started. He looked down at her, his heart thrumming away. "Is this something... well, something you want," she said, flicking her eyes. He thought a moment, the heat inside him failing to subside. Every part of him was on fire.

"Yes," he said without hesitation, and lowered his head, kissing her once more. His hand moved up her shirt, touching parts of her body he'd never considered before. He'd never really admired the female form before, but in his bed she was... well, she was beautiful. He slid her shirt off and tossed it aside, leaning back sightly to admire her. She blushed, avoiding his gaze. "Why do you look away?" he said quizzically, lowering his mouth to her collarbone. Charlie sighed lightly.

"I don't know. I guess I am shy. I've never... I've never done this before," she said with a light voice as he traced her neck. He leaned back once more and looked at her.

"Do you want this," he asked her. She nodded rapidly, and he felt the heat inside his rise. He reached down and slipped a hand into her pants. Charlie moaned, closing her eyes, her head pushing into the pillow. He pressed his hand against her core, and she groaned loudly, biting her lip. He was exploring. This was so strange... it was something he had never done, but it felt so natural. He watched her facial expressions, her body language, deciphering what movements were good and what were bad. He slid off her pants, and lowered his head back to her lips, kissing her lightly. As he kissed her, he reached down, and instinctively placed her hand on him. Charlotte moaned and rubbed her hand against him hard. The feeling was something John couldn't rationalize. It was perfect. Why would anyone want to deny someone that feeling? He found a small moan escaping his mouth, and Charlie did it again, this time reaching inside him pants, unbuttoning them with ease. The sound was that came from him when she grasped him, was something he didn't think he could make. Suddenly, he grabbed her hand, and brought it above her head, along with the other, and pinned them there with his left hand. He looked her in the eyes, his own narrowed. "Tell me what you want," he said gruffly. Charlie squirmed underneath him.

"I want you," she replied, slightly begging. John was not satisfied. He looked down at her, waiting. She groaned, "I want you inside of me," she said breathlessly. John lowered his hips to hers, and guided himself in with a grunt. Charlie raised her hips and moaned into his shoulder, her hands gliding up his back. John moved slowly, pushing against her while trying to hold back. He didn't want to hurt her. But, surprised, he heard her moan, "Harder," and he was happy to oblige. He thrust harder inside her, groaning with each movement. Charlie tried her best not to moan, small squeaks escaping her as he moved all the way in and back out. John treated this as a challenge. He slid into her. Hard. And a small sigh escaped her lips. John reached down, a hand on her hip, clutching it. He moved faster now, a strange heat rising inside the pit of him. Each thrust was faster and more rough than the last, in return Charlie became increasingly louder. The Spartan found his movements more frantic, fueled by the tendrils of pleasure inside him. He pressed into her harder, finally, releasing something deep inside of him. Something that had been suppressed for years. He groaned loudly, and Charlie found herself following suit. The undulates of small pleasures washed over them, and finally settled. John rolled to the side, and eased Charlie from the bed, resting her on top of him. He could hear her heartbeat, and he felt very pleased to be hearing its healthy thrumming. He blinked, looking at the ceiling above him. Charlie stirred on his chest and looked up at him.

"I think I won."


	7. The Drop

This is mostly based off of the games, because I haven't read the books. My knowledge of the Halo-verse is pretty limited, so bear with me. If there are any factual errors, I apologize.

_I do not own nor am I in any way affiliated with Halo. I write for the experience and for the fun. Please enjoy!_

**oOoOoOo**

Charlie awoke with a start, her heart thrumming in her chest. Another bad dream - only this one was absolutely horrid. John had died. It seemed to last forever in her head, his death long and dragged out. She shuddered and rolled over to find herself alone in his bed. Her brown pools flickered down to the mess of blankets on the floor, and their uselessness. A small tendril of excitement wavered insider he, reminding her of the prior night's happenings. A small smile stitched its way onto her lips, and she stood up, pulling the light blanket around her chest. She failed to find her clothes, which were somewhere strewn about, so she helped herself to one of John's shirts. She slipped it on, and adjusted her hair, opting to throw it into a messy bun. She managed to drag her pants out from under the bed, and slipped them on, notching the belt and slipping into her steel-toed boots. Now, where had John gone off to?

The ship was silent, but the gentle lull of the machinery below told her they were moving. Charlie walked down the grated hallway slowly, peering around hallways. Since her encounter with the Covenant, she felt extremely cautious. They seemed to be quite skilled at stowing away and coming out of nowhere when she was alone. Although she was afraid she might find Sarah in the bridge, Charlie climbed the stairs to the room anyway. John was standing above the map, his helmet placed on its edge, his eyes stony and concentrated. She gently placed one foot at the head of the stairs, and attempted to sneak up to him. But, of course, this was quite impossible.

"Good morning," John said with his gravely voice. He flicked his eyes over his shoulder at her. He didn't smile, but she could see a certain look in his eyes. Oh well, she didn't expect much more. She cupped her hands behind her back and approached him, with her own toothy smile.

"Good morning Master Chief," she said quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He eyed her for a moment, watching the curve of her mouth, her eyes, the loose bits of hair touching her neck, and turned back to the map, a new look on his face. Determination. Charlie leaned against the table and sighed, "So, what are we doing?" she said, deciding she would not distract him from the task at hand. He narrowed his eyes, and fleeted a glance at her.

"What do you mean we?"

"Oh don't start that again." Charlie stood back, arms crossed, her brow furrowed. John's eyes turned hard.

"This is something I can't let you do. Facing covenant forces is not a game," he said a bit harshly. Charlie frowned.

"I can handle myself John," her voice as determined as the crease in his forehead. The Spartan scowled and crossed his arms.

"I can't let you go."

"Well I am."

"No, Charlotte," he said, sounding like her father. He turned back to the map, but she stepped up to his side, moving in his way.

"You can't tell me what to do. I am going to help." John let out a breath, and opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it. He set his jaw and looked over his shoulder. She watched his eyes flicker to the stairs.

"What if you are hurt?" He seemed serious, his eyes rippled.

"I will be fine." Her voice was soft.

That was the end of the discussion. For now.

oOoOoOo

John didn't know exactly what had happened the night before. It was very... foggy. He remembered arguing with Charlie, he remembered her kissing him. And he remembered her skin, the smell of her hair, the feeling of her skin. But he couldn't accept that he would allow himself to do those things. He wasn't supposed to care about things like that. He wasn't supposed to get involved with people. And he never had. But she was so different. She challenged him, made his heart beat that familiar rhythm he felt when he was in the heat of battle. Adrenaline. Somehow, Charlie had broken through his walls, made him think he was capable of... well, of caring. He had never been mean, exactly, just cautious. Conservative. He was a mess. He couldn't decide if he wanted to care about her, or pretend nothing happened. He knew it would be in both of their best interests if he just erected those walls once more. But he didn't know if he could hurt her like that...

Seeing her the next morning was a whole new emotion. He felt... happy to see her. In that moment he felt like there was no way he could pretend nothing had happened. It had. And he had liked it. Even worse was the fact that Charlie thought she was invincible. He couldn't stand to see harm come to her. He would be at risk if she was on the battlefield with him. His head would be elsewhere. And then... then there was the matter of her brother. Something he had hidden from her the moment they had met. He didn't know how he could carry on caring for her, with that burden on his shoulders. Wait. He didn't even know if he cared for her. It was misplaced. It was all just a huge jumble, and he was confused. He clenched his fists unable to organize the mess.

John looked down at his breakfast, glad that Charlie had decided to visit Lasky in the infirmary with his food. He didn't want to be around her. She clouded his judgment. She clouded everything. He pushed a clump of egg around with his fork and flicked his eyes up to see Sarah sitting down. He quickly ate a piece of his food.

"So, what is the plan, exactly?" she said, seeming a bit annoyed.

"We have to destroy the Device. And the only way to do that is to find it. I think I know where it is. If the Covenant is convinced the Key was with Charlie, they must still be on earth. They would have wanted to be prepared. We find the Device, destroy it, and the rest of the Covenant with it," he said, sounding extremely confident in this assessment. Sarah seemed to agree, mumbling and eating her food. John ignored her, and finished his breakfast so he would be able to escape and get some peace and quiet.

He was on his way to the lower deck of the ship, when Charlie found him. She touched his elbow, and smiled brightly, something he would prefer she never did again. He shifted, falling out of her grasp and facing her fully. Her smile faltered momentarily and she looked up at him. "Do you think you might be able to help me learn how to use some weapons? I'm a little rusty," she said, biting the side of her mouth. She noticed something was off. John stared at her for a moment and slowly nodded his head. He was trying not to yell. The unorganized thoughts were almost crippling. He wanted to kiss her. No. He wanted her to leave. He wanted to be alone. He didn't want to hurt her, but he did. He ran a hand through his hair and gritted his teeth. Damn it all. He brushed past her, leading her to the indoor range the ship offered. Charlie followed closely, an odd look of suspicion on her face.

The range was empty, and John removed the Assault Rifle from his back. He swung it down and checked the safety, handing it to the petite woman. The large rifle dwarfed her. He pushed her up to the firing line. "Go ahead," he said curtly, watching a strand of hair fall from its place behind her ear. She looked at him, and narrowed her eyes, facing her target full on. She lightly squeezed the trigger. The recoil punched her shoulder roughly, and she let off, watching the casings fall to the floor. She barely skinned the target. John sighed, "Don't just squeeze on it." Charlie gave him a glare and turned back to the target. She lightly fingered the trigger three times, bursts following. She hit the target's lower abdomen. She did it again, only this time her finger slipped, squeezing the trigger tightly. The barrel climbed, and knocked her down, taking her by surprise. John scowled and reached down, picking up the weapon before she killed herself. Charlie stood roughly to her feet and stared at him roughly.

"You don't have to be so goddamn rude," she seethed, rubbing her shoulder.

"You don't need to know any of this!" John shouted, surprised. Charlie took a step back and kept her gaze. John placed the rifle roughly back onto his person.

"What is your problem?" she snapped, and he knew she meant today. When he should be "flirting" or whatever people did after intercourse. He rolled his eyes and turned away from her, looking down at his boots.

"You are," he said, and it hurt to even speak the words. He didn't know why. But it was bitter and it made him want to apologize. But he couldn't. He didn't need to look at her to know she was hurting. She swallowed hard.

"I wasn't a 'problem' last night," she said, her voice wavering.

"That was a mistake," he quickly snapped at her, looking over his shoulder. Charlie's eyes flickered over.

"I see," she said softly, letting her gaze fall to the floor.

"None of this should have happened."

"Well it did, John," he could tell she was trying not to cry. He didn't answer. "Thanks for the lesson," she added, turning on her heel and walking quickly from the room. John wanted to stop her. Tell her he didn't mean to hurt her. But those were emotions he had to have in check. He had made a mistake. A stupid mistake. He turned his head to watch her run around the corner, the hell of her hand pressed against her eyes. Something inside him gnawed away at his thoughts. But he didn't have time for them.

oOoOoOo

Sarah was not one to hold grudges, or show an unkind word most of the time. In fact, she was quite kind. But Charlotte Taggart had rubbed her in all the wrong ways. She was soft, selfish, clumsy, self absorbed and a distraction. And she just ran into her. Sarah instinctively held out her arms, preventing the petite woman from crashing into her. Charlie met contact, blindly, and was thrust onto the ground. "Watch it," Sarah said heatedly, narrowing her eyes at the woman on the ground. She noticed the tears on her cheeks. "The Chief finally get tired of your antics?" she said coolly, quirking a goaded brow. Charlotte stood up quickly, dragging her hand along the wet tracks down her face.

"Leave me alone," Charlie spat wiping her hands along the thighs of her pants. Sarah wasn't intimidated.

"Not everyone has to fall to your feet, Taggart," she sighed, moving so Charlie could pass by. But she didn't move, she just glared at Sarah.

"I'm sorry my brother would reciprocate whatever feelings you had for him, but I don't blame him. You are a rude, miserable person," Charlie said, huffing slightly. She wasn't so good on the uptake. Sarah scowled and leaned in, heat rolling off of her.

"Your brother was a disgrace to the human race," she spat back. She knew she had been goaded on, but she didn't care. She was tired of Charlie.

"Don't say a word against my brother you bitch!"

"How can you defend him?" Sarah said, suddenly enraged. Charlie backed up, but her back hit the cold, hard metal of the Master Chief's suit. She glanced up at him.

"That's enough Palmer," the Spartan said. Sarah just ignored him. Master Chief moved Charlie to the side. But Sarah was already set. "How dare you stand there and defend someone who was single-handedly responsible for the death of an entire planet," she said hotly. Charlie blinked.

"Enough," John said loudly. But it was out. Charlie looked between the two soldiers.

"What do you mean?" Charlie said panicked. Sarah shook her head.

"You didn't even know. Your brother helped the Covenant glass an entire planet. He lost his mind... probably all that time in isolation. He was a walking timebomb."

"Palmer, enough," Master Chief's eyes flashed. Sarah shook her head. But enough was said. Charlie had disappeared, slipping between the two soldiers, and running down a flight of stairs. The Spartan looked at her disapprovingly. "You had no right to tell her that."

"Why didn't you?"

"You know that was confidential."

"Not anymore."

oOoOoOo

Charlie couldn't believe it. It wasn't true. Tears stung her eyes, her lungs burned, her heart ached in her chest. She reached the bunk, and slammed the door, kicking it closed and repeatedly kicking it. After the door had received enough of the brunt, she paced the room, wiping away tears with her hands.

John stood in the doorway, gazing at her. She couldn't even look at him. She wanted to scream. Finally, she turned and stared at him. "You..." she started, but couldn't finish, turning away and "You hid this from me?" she finally said, whipping around to face him.

"I couldn't tell you," he said gruffly. Charlie laughed, almost hysterically.

"Oh, so, so it's okay to fuck me, but not tell me my brother is a homicidal maniac?" she shouted. John looked uncomfortable. Good. He closed the bunk door.

"Calm down-"

"Don't tell me to calm down! Do you have any idea... any fucking idea how long my father looked for him? Do you? Someone kidnapped him John, they took him away from us. Changed him, distorted him, shoved a gun in his hands and told him to kill," she raged, still pacing, pointing at him occasionally. John remained silent. "They made him a monster. Ripped out whatever was left of humanity, and put a machine it its place. My father died looking for his son. HIS son!" she screamed, now trying to punch him. John grabbed her wrist and pinned it to her side along with the other.

"A lot of people lost their children," John tried to say, but she just violently tried to escape.

"And that make it OKAY? You're a fucking monster, just like all of them. Designed and created to do nothing but kill," she said loudly. John felt an unfamiliar twinge of hurt. "You're not capable of anything else. Not love, not friendship, not kindness. You take what you want and complete your goddamn mission," she said, now out of breath. He let her slide to the ground in a heap.

"Charlie..." he began, but she just curled up, her hands over her head. He left her then, quietly. She wanted to beg him to stay. To hold her. Kiss her, tell her everything was alright. But she knew he wasn't coming back.

She laid on the floor, sobbing for hours, it seemed, until she finally fell asleep. Her dreams were plagued with her brother's face. By John, by her father. They were horrid things she didn't know were alive inside her. Hate for her father, for leaving her too soon, for spending his time on her brother. Hate for her brother, for the atrocities he had committed. Hate for John for lying to her, using her and leaving her. And a hate for herself, for not standing up, or knowing better than to trust him.

She awoke from her sleep, sore and bruised, and John absent. He must have bunked elsewhere. Good. She stretched, her limbs screaming. But she didn't have time to think about that. As she lay awake in the early morning, her thoughts distant, foggy and dark, she thought of the one thing she could do to make herself feel right. And she planned on doing exactly that. Her whole life, she had spent taking care of her father, watching him die, watching him mourn his son. Then she met John, and she let herself trust him, trust a machine. And in each instance, she had fallen and no one was there to help her, or take care of her. She knew what she could do to show everyone, exactly how capable she was.

The first part of her plan involved her extreme stealth, which she was no master of. She found John slumbering in the cot below deck, surrounded by the lull of machines. He hadn't taken his suit off. She toed, quietly, excruciatingly slowly, to his side. She found the pouch where he kept the key, and slipped out, clenching her jaw and watching his face. He didn't move. Quickly, she jaunted up the stairs, and down the hallway towards the bridge. She found Sarah there, and poked her head in for a moment.

"Quick question," she said, sounding bright.

"What?" Sarah said flatly.

"Are we in within dropping range of earth?"

"In ten minutes, yes. Go wake up Master Chief."

"Okay," she responded. But she had no intention of doing so. Instead, she headed for the cargo bay. There she suited up in a very heavy, very usual uniform. ODST gear. Something she had once done for fun on her father's ship, for which she was seriously punished for. She had met many people while under her father's eye, including many Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, who tended to be a pretty unfriendly bunch. At one time someone had shown her how the pods worked. And although she didn't remember it word for word, she figured she could just wing it. She tucked the Key into a pouch of her gear, and faced a large black object with a door. The pod was for two people, back to back. It looked intimidating, but she had made up her mind. She walked over to the panel controlling the pods, and calculated it the best she could. As she was punching in the last numbers, she heard footsteps approaching the staircase. She leaned back and punched a button, that swung the door shut, and locked it. Suddenly, Palmer's face was in the small window of the door, angry and yelling. Charlie wiggled her fingers at her in a fake wave. Behind her, she could see the glint of John's armor.

"Charlie, what are you doing?" he was on the intercom. Charlie sighed, and ignored him, punching more buttons. A red light on the pod lit up. John's eyes darted to it. "You're not seriously-" he began rummaging around in his pouches.

"Looking for this?" Charlie said in a sing-song voice over the intercom.

"Open the door."

"Not a chance." And with that, she strolled over to the pod, and went about strapping herself in.

"You're not trained for that. You will get yourself killed."

She ignored him, strapping her legs in. She looked up, her eyes lingering on him. She punched an interior button, and the door came down with a hiss, locking her in tightly. She couldn't hear them now, the sound of silence enveloping her. She closed her eyes, as a small feminine voice began to count down to her ascent.

"5... 4... 3... 2... 1"

The next few moments were incredibly intense. She felt dizzy, her skin covered in goose flesh. Her breathing increased, adrenaline coursing through her. The slight sound a whipping noise as she dropped to earth. She knew she could be falling to her death, completely untrained and not even sure if she had correctly done everything - but if she died, what loss was that? She had no home, she had no family. In the long run, at least trying to redeem herself seemed worth it.

As she felt herself slowly falling into blackness, the entire pod jarred. She thought he legs might have broken on impact. She wasn't ready for that. She knew she had sustained some injury, but wasn't sure of the extent. The interior light flickered, and she could see some blood on her upper lip. Her nose was bleeding. But that was from altitude and the trip down, she was sure. She unstrapped herself, and punched the release. She fell out, and onto her knees, and knew almost immediately she had hurt her right ankle. But it wasn't too bad. She had sprained it.

Suddenly, she realized she was surrounded by forest. Something loud screeched in the distance - and it hit her. She was utterly on her own.


	8. Rescue

This is mostly based off of the games, because I haven't read the books. My knowledge of the Halo-verse is pretty limited, so bear with me. If there are any factual errors, I apologize.

_I do not own nor am I in any way affiliated with Halo. I write for the experience and for the fun. Please_

**OoOoOoO**

Sarah slammed the door with her shoulder. John stood by, watching, calculating. He felt immediately responsible for Charlie's actions. The steady pounding of Sarah's shoulder into the door interrupted him. He raised a hand, gesturing for her to stop. With a well-placed kick, the door came flying open. He descended the stairs, two at a time. Sarah and three ODSTs followed on his heels. He glanced around, and slipped a BR onto his back. He faced Sarah and narrowed his eyes. "I'm going after her."

"How? She took the only pod!" Sarah said venomously, her brows furrowed into a single thick line. John gazed at her a moment.

"I don't need a drop pod," he said simply, walking over to the panel Charlie had been fiddling with. Sarah glared at him. "We're close enough," he said, clipping a grenade to his gear. No one questioned him. He motioned for them to leave, and they did so. He closed the door, and looked down at the floor, which was moving. A four foot opening appeared. He watched the floor spread completely, and held his breath. He could make out trees and a large lake. The smoky path of Charlie's pod was barely visible. He ease his boot into the opening, and dropped the rest of his body after it.

The descent was quick, heat building up on his armor. His was adjusted for the fall, the impact would be rough. He hit the earth more quickly than he thought he would. The landing was jarring, but he was used to it. He stayed still for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Charlie couldn't have gone too far. He adjusted is suit, unlocking it. He was partially covered in dirt and debris. So he lifted himself out with ease. John strode a few steps from the crater he left, and looked about. He was in the forest - and it was silent. He leaned pulled his battle rifle from his back, and started forward. He could see Charlie's drop pod in the distance. He prepared himself for what he might see as he approached it. It was half in the ground, and still warm. He rounded the side of it, and found it was empty. He felt relieved. Slowly, he squatted to the ground and inspected the loose track she had left behind. She was limping, so she was hurt. He sighed, and stood back up, following the tracks until they ended in a particularly grassy area. As he passed through the thick weeds, he could see small flecks of blood on their stalks. He couldn't exactly put a finger on it... but something moved inside him. That ancient, rusted feeling shook off the dust. He narrowed his eyes, looking through the thick mangle of grass at his feet, looking for a body... but nothing. The blood ended however, and he reached the foot of a hill. He saw the tracks again, and the slight drag from her hurt leg or foot. He crouched down, slipping up the side of the hill covertly. At the top, he found a shred of clothes, and realized it was a strip of her shirt. She had made a bandage. As he picked it up, his eyes flickered over the top of the grassy knoll and over a marsh. In the distance he could see the glimmer of a Covenant ship. Banshees dotted the distance as the buzzed around like flocks of birds. The Device was close, and Charlotte had known it. He slid down the opposite side of the hill and landed in the waist high water with an almost inaudible thunk.

The water sloshed about him as he slowly moved through it. Naked trees peppered the water, Spanish moss hanging from their branches. A flock of birds sprang from the grass and wheeled overhead, screeching past the intruder. John ducked slightly, moving behind a log. The roaming guards didn't notice. He moved on, slowly. As he reached the end of the marsh, he climbed out, creeping low to the ground. A guard, a small grunt, lay asleep on the job. John moved to it's right, and slid a combat knife from the sheath on his armor. He flipped the blade in his hands, and approached the tiny alien. He gargled as he shoved the blade into the side of its neck, and ripped its throat clear across the middle. blood sprayed into the browned grass and it rolled to its side. John pulled it to the side of the water and pushed it in. The body sank slightly and bobbed away.

John then set his eyes on two elites exchanging watch. He rounded the side of the marsh and crouched down in the brush. He toed through the thick underbrush, pushing aside brambles quietly. For such a large person, he was immensely stealthy. As he approached the elite, who was standing with a carbine in his hand, he stood, slowly, and pivoted on his feet to avoid the crunch of foliage. He reached forward, one hand wrapping around its jaw, the other slipping the knife across its throat. Skin and sinew separated, blood popping from the fold of torn skin and over his hand. The alien half-snarled, but fell, almost instantly. John reached out, and dragged it into the brush with him, laying it on it's side in the shadows. The other elite was approaching. It's metallic voice rattled as it noticed the absence of its comrade. It headed into the brush, it's head sticking in as it slung out an energy sword. John quickly gripped his knife, leaned forward and thrust the blade, with all his might, into the alien's jaw. He then ripped it forward, slicing it's mouth open and pulling the creature forward. He quickly reached forward, muffles it's screech and watched the light face from its silver eyes. He sighed then, and wiped his knife on its chest. He slipped the energy sword onto his belt, and toed to the side of the ship. The banshees overhead seemed to have moved on, leaving the large ship behind. John glanced around, Charlie no where in sight. She obviously had not made it into the ship.

Suddenly, John saw her. She was being dragged by two elites, and she was hurt (nothing new there). They were headed towards the ship. John knew if she were brought aboard he would never catch up to them. He thought quickly, and pulled his BR out. With two well aimed shots, he killed the fist elite. The first broke the armor on it's skull, the second penetrated him and exited the other end. It fell, mid-stride, and blood pooled by its body. The second guard, didn't have time to react. John had leaped from the brush and sprinted towards it, the energy sword in hand. He whipped it, hard, unfurling the blue blade. He thrust the sword into the alien's torso with a grunt, and watched it pierce through to the other side. It chortled in agony, and fell into him, he rolled it off is arm and onto the ground. Charlie lay on the ground, her eyes closed. Blood dripped from her nose, the corner of her lip and the bottom of her shirt was torn off, wrapped tightly around her upper arm. John looked down at her, his eyes slits. She was a magnet for danger. He squatted next to her, and took her jaw between his fingers and thumb, moving it to inspect her face. Her cheek was swollen, her lip busted. He sighed, and scooped her up, quickly returning to the brush. He didn't feel safe with her in the open, though if more guards were to discover their fallen comrades, it would be equally as dangerous.

John laid Charlie down, and gently shook her shoulder. She rolled open her eyes lazily and stared at him.

"Oh... you," she groaned, sliding her hand under her face.

"You are an idiot," John said in his grisly voice. Charlie ignored him, wincing as she took a breath. "Your ribs hurt," John stated more than asked. She just nodded. "What happened?" he asked.

"They found me, and tried to take the key."

"What did you do?"

"The only thing I could think of..."

"Charlie... what did you do?" The woman shifted and sat up, pressing her hand against her forehead.

"I told them it was on Reach."

"What?" John said, astonished. "Why would you do that?"

"Well, because they would have killed us all. I was improvising."

"That was incredibly foolish."

"Well, I had no choice. They decided to bring me inside to whoever is in charge of that thing," she lazily gestured to the ship. John shook his head slowly. Charlie scowled, "Stop giving me that look."

"You could have died," he said standing to his feet. She sat there looking up at him, anger flashing in her blue pools. "They could have gotten the Key," he added.

"I had it under control," she spat, leading her head fall between her knees. John snorted without realizing.

"I can see that."

"Hey, fuck you." She said, standing to her feet and trying to walk past him. He stood there like a stone wall. "Move," she said, pushing past him. John just grabbed her and put her back. "Ugh!" she shouted, stomping one of her feet childishly. "Leave me alone!" she shouted at him. John didn't move.

"Give me the key," he said, holding out his hand. She moved back, shaking her head vigorously. "Give it to me now, Charlie." He sounded firm. Angry.

"No!" she said obstinately. John didn't have time for this. He reached foreword, grabbing each of her shoulders and bringing her close to his face.

"I don't have time for your games, now give me the key... or I'll make you," he whispered. Charlie, for once felt a little scared of him. She growled and he set her down.

"Fine!" she said, reaching into her pocket and throwing at him. John caught in midair, the chain wrapping around his fingers. "But I am going in with you. I am not sitting out here."

"No," and he began walking away. Charlie ran behind him. He turned, placing a hand on her shoulder, close to her collarbone. "Stay," he said firmly. She ignored him and pulled away.

"No. You don't even care about me... if I die wont that be a good thing?" she said bitterly. John paused and turned back to her. Charlie just stared up into his gold visor.

"Is... that what you think?" he asked slowly, his eyes tired. Charlie fidgeted quietly and looked down at her feet. "Charlie," he said, looking at her still. She looked up, slightly, like am embarrassed child.

"Yes," she admitted, rubbing her arm with her hand. She bit her lip and looked down once more. "I think, you would be happier if I just wasn't around," she said slowly. John inwardly, reaching up and placing his hands on his helmet. He twisted it off, and dropped it to the ground.

"That is _very_ wrong," he said gently. He didn't know what he was doing, exactly, but he was just letting his heart think instead of his head. Which was very difficult. Charlie looked up into his weary, lackluster eyes and frowned, tears in her own cerulean orbs. "I..." he started and let the word sink into the thick air around them. He reached forward and pushed a lock of hair out of her bloodied face. "I know I have hurt you," he said, in a slight whisper. Charlie frowned, and stifled a small sob. She rubbed her eyes and shook her head.

"Then why did you... why did you say those things? You don't want me John, you can't. You don't have it in you to care for other people. They broke you, and for that, I pity you. But I can't be with someone who loves me one day and hates me next," she said with an unsteady breath. He just looked down at her, wordless. She sobbed once more and backed up into the brush, pointing at the ship, "You had better go," she said, turning to leave. To leave him to do what he needed to do. But she didn't get far. Her grabbed her arm, turning her around to face him. In a swift movement, he leaned down, wrapping an arm around her back, and lifting her up so her face was level with his. He pressed his lips on hers, lightly, a spark spitting in the pit of him. Charlie sighed breathlessly and flicked open her eyes, looking into his.

"I want you more than anything I have ever wanted," he said, placing another small kiss on her mouth. She kissed him back, hard, her hands reaching around to wrap her arms on his neck. He separated from her once more, "I can't go on living knowing I am _hurting_ you," he said gently, resting his forehead on hers. Charlie let a small, ghostly smile crawl across her features.

"Lets go give those Covvies hell," she said wiggling for him to set her back on the ground. John obliged, plopping her back down, and picking his helmet. He placed it back on and twisted it into place. He handed Charlie his magnum, flipping it once and slapping it into her hand. She took it, checked the safety and cocked a bullet into the chamber. John lead the way, Charlie in tow, walking as fast her feet would take her.

They entered the ramp to the ship catiously John holding his hand out, signaling for her to stop. He slowly raised his rifle, and rounded the corner, finding two grunts exchanging words. They saw him, and screeched, trying to scramble away. But he killed them before they even had a chance to get away. Two rounds, right to the dome. They fell to the ground, blood shimmering on the ship floor. Charlie followed him up another ramp. There they found more grunts, which they easily took out. Charlie popped off three, simultaneously. John took out several others. At the sound of battle, a jackal left it's roost above and came down a ramp from above. John fired a round at it just as it raised it's colored shield. Charlie distracted it, and John kicked it's shied down, and popped a round into the back of its head. It gargled and fell over, the shield evaporating.

Charlie had started up the next ramp, and as John turned around, he spotted a familiar green light.

"Get down!" he shouted, sprinting at her, and tackling her just as a bright ball of green light whizzed past her head. She screamed and rolled over behind a barrier. John stood up, loading his rifle. The Hunter roared and came rumbling down the ramp, it's brother following suit. He quickly ducked around the corner. "Charlie, stay down," he shouted, reaching into his belt an unfurling his sword. Charlotte sat behind the barrier in obedience. John ran away from the giant creatures, and dolphin dove over a barrier. Green light followed just over his heels. He rolled over, crawling to the side of the barrier and laying on his belly. "Charlie! Do you still have those plasma grenades?" he shouted over the sound of the hunter's flipping over the barrier's with their shielded arms.

"Yes!" she shouted back, peering over the barrier at him.

"When I say go, throw it at the back of the one in the rear. You have to stick it okay. Right on the back. Can you do that?"

"Yes!" she said. The Hunter in the front spotted her, and raised its cannon to fire.

"Now!" John shouted, raising up to his feet and sprinting at the one in the front with its back turned on him. Charlie flung the sticky grenade at the hunter in the rear. The grenade hit the leathery patch of skin on the monster's back, and screeched as it exploded in a great blue light. The hunter roared and dropped to one knee. As it was doing so, John jumped on the other, sinking his blade into its back. It shook him off, flinging him and the sword to the ground. The strike was true though, and the alien fell to the ground. John quickly got up, running over to ensure their death. He plunged his blade into the downed hunter repeatedly, until it laid still. The other caught him off guard, pummeling him with the shield. John caught air, hitting a column and falling to the ground. Charlie screamed, causing the beast to turn towards her. It raised its cannon, and it charged with bright green light.

"John!" Charlie shouted, as the mass of light escaped the cannon in her direction.


	9. A Monster

This is mostly based off of the games, because I haven't read the books. My knowledge of the Halo-verse is pretty limited, so bear with me. If there are any factual errors, I apologize.

I do not own nor am I in any way affiliated with Halo. I write for the experience and for the fun. Please enjoy!

(**Warning:** This chapter does contain a sexually explicit scene, but I have it perfectly advised before it starts. If you'd rather skip it, it is perfectly possible. You're welcome Jay. 3)

**oOoOoOo**

"Charlie, get down!" John's voice echoed through the ship's rampart. Charlie didn't look, nor blink, but did exactly as the Spartan said. Swiftly, she dropped to her belly, the ball of green light whizzing over her head and making contact with the ship's inner hull. She rolled to her side and listened to the large beast roaring. It was frenzied. It flipped the barricade she was using as cover, and exposed her. Charlie scrambled to her feet, barely missing the edge of its shield by diving behind a large purple column. Suddenly, John reappeared, his gun in hand. He unloaded several shots into it, but they seemed to be pointless. But he had its attention. Charlie crawled to a corner and watched helplessly. John jumped to its right, the beast sluggishly trying to keep up. He slid through the center of its legs, and whipped out the energy sword once more. The beast, unable to react quickly enough, fell victim to the sword. The bright blue blade sank into the flesh of its back, over and over again until it fell with a large, groudshaking thud onto the ground. Dust gathered around it's head in a cloud, and John looked down at it. Thick droplets of tinted blood dripped from his right arm, soaking the blade. He released the blade and placed it back on his person.

He turned then, looking around for his counterpart. Charlie sat in a corner, her blue eyes dazed. She blinked, looking up across the corridor at the tall solider. He sighed and strode towards her, offering his hand. She took it slowly, and he pulled her gently to her feet. She immediately leaned into his armor and took a shaky breath, "I..." he put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her seriously.

"We're not done yet," he stated, sounding like a commander addressing his troops. Charlie nodded her head unsteadily, and picked up the magnum from the ground. John gave one firm nod, and led the way up the last ramp. Everything seemed so slow for Charlie. She felt sick to her stomach, breathless. Like something... very bad was going to happen. She couldn't put her finger on it exactly, it was just something deep inside of her. The ramp was void of covenant, and very quiet. John stopped her with a gesture of his hand, and she paused, gripping the magnum in her hands tightly. Cold sweat trickled down the back of her spine and she shivered. John started forward without her but she grabbed his arm. He turned his head.

"Wait," she said, now aware she was shivering. John took a step closer to her and looked at her softly through his gold visor. Charlotte took a deep breath and swallowed hard, "Something isn't right," she said softly, her eyes glazed. John sat her down and leaned her back against the wall. He squatted down and inspected her. He lifted her right arm slightly, and saw where her shirt was soaked with blood. She had been hit, and it looked very serious. John lowered her arm and looked at her pale face. He touched the side of her face and frowned, for once feeling very unsure about what he should do.

"Can you stay here?" he sounded concerned. Charlie didn't know what was wrong. Everything felt fuzzy. She felt cold and hot at the same time. She gave him a quizzical look. "Charlie... you're hurt. Badly," John said gently, taking the magnum from her hands. "If you keep pushing yourself..." he trailed off. She noted the weight in his voice and she sighed, letting her head fall against the wall.

"Gotcha," she said breathlessly, a shiver running down her spine again. "You go destroy the device. I'll just try to keep breathing," she said wiping her arm across her forehead. John looked at her unsure and stood up, clipping the pistol to his waist. "I'll be fine," she said, waving him on listlessly. He turned, and left her there, fleeting a glance over his shoulder. Charlie slumped against the wall, suddenly feeling very sleepy. But she didn't know if falling asleep was the best idea, so she started to think of things to keep herself awake. Like her home. And maybe she could rebuild it. She wondered if John would want to settle down with her, or if he was just always going to be hot and cold with her. She wondered if she could ever feel the way she did about John, for anyone else. It was different. She had felt affection for men before, boys at school, but nothing quite as intense as what she felt for the Spartan who had saved her life numerous times. She then started to think about her brother, and what he had done. If he was still alive, if they had ever caught him. If the covenant had betrayed him. Did he think about her, or if he even knew who he was anymore. Small black circles ebbed at the edges of her eyes, and she didn't know if she could hold back from falling asleep anymore...

oOoOoOo

John crept along the long corridor of the ship, keeping his shoulder pressed against the wall. A long interior ramp led to the center of a large open room, in the center, a large oblong object sat alone. It pulsed a soft orange glow and was covered in what seemed light blue crystal. The Device. He touched the pouch where the Key was and set his jaw. He hopped over a low wall and onto the middle of the ramp, jogging down it slowly. No one in sight. He approached the Device, digging into the pouch and pulling out the small key. It dangled in his hand as he closed the gap between himself and the Device.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." John whipped around. Standing in the opening opposite of the ramp, some door that connected deep into the interior of the alien ship, stood Silas. In his arms was Charlie's crumpled body. He looked so different than when they were in training. His eyes were dead, almost black in appearance. His head shaved, completely. He did not wear any Spartan armor, but a strange mock-up of an alien armor, shiny and purple. His face was stony, ghostly with a long scar reaching down the side of his face from eyebrow to jaw. His mouth was slightly curved into a sadistic grin.

"Silas," John said gruffly, not moving from his spot. The Key still dangled in his hand. Silas eyed it for a moment and turned his attention back to the Master Chief.

"Hello, John," Silas said with a milky, eerie voice. It even sounded slightly metallic like his new comrades. His pupil-less eyes studied John like a predator. His angular nose making him seem almost avian. "I assume you are here to destroy the Device," he stated, taking a step down the stairway and pausing. John didn't respond. "I am just going to get right to the point," he said, taking another few steps, Charlie still in his hands, her head lolling over the crook of his elbow. She was breathing. John swallowed and turned his head slightly. "Give me the Key, John."

"I can't do that," John replied sharply. Silas' eyes flared noticeably and he let out a wicked laugh. Deep and cavernous, something dark and void of soul. He wondered if Silas had even had a soul to begin with.

"Stop trying to protect these silly humans, John," Silas said, handing Charlotte's limp body to an elite who was right at his elbow. It adjusted her roughly. John's eyes focused on the man before him. A man who was supposed to protect people like Charlie. Someone John once regarded as noble, proud, powerful, just. Silas flicked his eyes, his head tilting slightly. Suddenly two elite's were at John's elbows, grappling him tightly. He held the key tightly in his hand. They pulled him forward, his boots dragging across the floor. He knew he couldn't do anything irrational, or Charlie would be harmed. "Now," Silas said smoothly, reaching behind his back and pulling out an energy sword. It glinted in the dull lights overhead. John's eyes narrowed at him. Silas approached him with the sword, passing it between his eyes. He knew John wouldn't be intimidated. They shared the same training. "Why are you dragging my little sister along? I don't think that is proper protocol, do you?" he said, turning on his heel, his back facing John. He looked over his shoulder, a nasty grin on his face. "You're not attached to her John, are you?" the former fellow Spartan said slowly, taking a step towards Charlie. John struggled, but he was outnumbered, a third elite coming to stand behind him, a carbine pressed into his back. Silas stood before Charlie, looking down at her then turning to John, "Give me the key John," he said slowly. John's eyes flickered in between Charlie and the sword. The long pause was enough for Silas. "Wake her up," he said to the elite, who then shook Charlie and plopped her to the floor on her feet. She awoke with a start, her eyelids lazily flicking open.

"What... John?" she said with a slight groan. "What's happening?" her eyes fell onto her brother, and her jaw dropped slightly, "S-Silas?" she said, sighing inwardly. She felt the arms behind her and she looked up to see an elite looming over her. She looked back to Silas and shook her head, "You... I don't understand..." she said, her voice shaky. John struggled, pulling his arms. The elite behind him shoved the muzzle harder into his back.

"Oh, what? My siding with the covenant, yes about that," he said casually, standing in front of her. She looked up at him, her eyes dull. "Well, you know, saving humanity just got so boring. Why would I waste my life for someone who didn't appreciate it? Called me a freak? If being kidnapped and forced into military service wasn't bad enough..." he was noticeably angry. He took a deep breath and flashed the sword in front of her face, "I don't feel anything Charlie," he said, his black eyes staring into hers. "Do you know what that's like?" he said numbly. Charlie looked at John, her face pale. He saw the fear in her eyes. "Now, little sister," Silas said slowly, looking over his shoulder at the Spartan, "Maybe you can implore you friend to give me the Key-"

"Don't do it John," she snapped, looking up at what used to be her brother, a light scowl on her soft features. Silas laughed again and suddenly, he had slapped her. The sound echoed through the room. John tried hard to escape, managing to yank one arm free. But the elite with the carbine struck him back down with the butt of the gun. Tears welled up in Charlie's eyes, a large red mark on her cheek. She scowled again and took a deep breath, blinking out the tears. "I feel sorry for you," she said gently, looking out of the corner of her eyes at John, who was pinned to the ground. The elite behind Charlie grabbed her arms and pinned them behind her back. "You can't feel love," she said wincing. "You can't feel happiness," Silas' eyes glinted blue from the sword in his hands. Charlie took a shaky breath, "And you never will," she said sternly. Silas delivered a blow to her side, and John could hear the crack of her ribs. Charlie screamed, bending forward in pain, dangling from the elite holding her there. She took short breaths, moaning in between. John struggled, kicking off his captors. One of them fell to the ground, the other stepping on the small of his back and pinning him there. The third reached down, taking off his helmet with a swift twist and pull. It lowered a sword to the core of his throat, holding his head with the other. The blade played with his skin as the alien held it there.

"Give me the key," Silas seethed, turning to John. John clutched the key in his hand tightly. Silas growled under his breath and turned back to Charlie, raising the sword.

"Wait," John said gruffly, swallowing against the sword on his throat. Silas turned, raising a brow. John coughed, "I'll give it to you, but you have to let her go," he said slowly. Silas narrowed his eyes and smiled.

"Of course," he said glancing to Charlie, her side bleeding profusely from the wound he had grazed with his strike. Her face paled, she was breathing in short breaths, almost hyperventilating. John's jaw tightened, and he pressed his palm against the cold floor, and slid the key to Silas. "Let him up," he said gesturing to the elites. They stepped back, weapons still raised. John stood up, and scooped up his helmet. He quickly approached Charlie, who was dropped to the floor. He leaned down, and scanned her.

"We're getting you out of here," he whispered, watching the rapid fall and rise of her chest. He wanted to tend to her wound, but he was afraid he might move the ribs, cause more pain than she already had. The red mark on her face had risen, puffy and angry. "Just hang in there," he added, reaching down to squeeze her hand. Charlie couldn't smile, nor respond, she only locked eyes. John stood to his feet, and watched as Silas approached the Device. Quickly he took a step forward, but all the elites trained their weapons on him. "If you do that, you'll die too," John said loudly. Silas paused and smiled.

"That's the point," he said with a ghostly smile.

Just as Silas was edging the Key to the Device, one of the elite's shuddered forward and onto the ground, it's head split from the rear. Silas whipped his head in its direction. A bullet whipped through his hand, obliterating it. The key fell to the ground at his feet. He didn't react, nor shout in pain, but narrowed his eyes glancing around. "Bring some friends?" he said angrily. John followed the tracer to a rifle barrel sticking out above them. He looked closer to the see the familiar white armor of Palmer's arm. The barrel swung around, taking out two more elites in quick succession. John acted quickly, sprinting towards Silas, who was reaching down for the Key once more. The rifle fired again, the bullet grazing Silas' back. John slid on the ground, knocking the once Spartan to his back. He scooped up the key, and held it tightly. The rifle fired again, taking out the last elite, who was charging. It fell to its knees, and clutched the side of it's head. Another round made it fall forward to its face.

"Give me the Key," Silas shouted, suddenly up and approaching John, sword drawn. John missed a messy sideswipe. The rifle fired another round, dinging Silas' armor on his left arm. His body whipped to the left. John clutched his fist, and slugged Silas in the head, knocking him to the ground. He reached down and picked up the sword, bringing it to rest on his foe's throat.

"Death is too good for you," John said, eyeing the monster in front of him. Silas smiled that sickening grin and laughed. Something glinted on his right wrist. The pad on his forearm beeped as covenant numbers began to rapidly roll back. A detonator. John jumped up, and ran to Charlie's side. As gently as he could, he hoisted her up into his arms, and turned on his heel. The ramp seemed so far away. He pushed hard, and sprinted up it, turning the corner to find Palmer shouldering her sniper rifle. He didn't say a word, just ran past her. She followed in tow.

"What's happening?" she shouted through her headset. John took a breath, still sprinting, now down the first exterior ramp.

"Bomb," he said. Palmer seemed to pick up the pace. They got down the next ramp, nothing but the sound of their feet audible. Suddenly the ship rumbled. John pushed hard, as they ran down the last ramp, grass in sight. The ship rumbled again, repeatedly. They reached the forest floor, and ran for the marsh. John held tightly to Charlie, and as the last of the ship rumbled, he dove into the water, Palmer behind him. The ship exploded, pieces of shrapnel pelting the surface of the water. A large cloud of smoke and fire billowed out over the marsh, lighting trees and moss alight. John brought Charlie up for air, and sputtered, gasping. Various pieces of the ship lay strewn about, covering the forest floor in debris.

"Phew!" Palmer said, coming up from under the water. She looked at Charlie, "She needs medical attention."

John nodded, dragging the girl to the shore and hoisting her up on the side. Charlie groaned quietly. Without saying anything, Sarah leaned down and took her off her helmet. She touched Charlie's side gingerly. Charlie whimpered and looked at John desperately. She continued to poke and prod. Finally, she looked to John, "Do you have any medical supplies. I have a small amount on me, but I need more bandages," she said, more to herself than to John. John nodded and produced a small pouch. She took it and went to work.

Sarah removed Charlie's shirt from the injured side. She really couldn't do anything to them, except rap them for the night, to relieve some pain. She gave Charlie some painkillers and went about tending to the plasma wound. She cleaned it off, applied burn ointment and bandaged it up. After all of it was said and done, Charlie had nodded off to sleep and John had gone about finding somewhere to dig down for the night.

They made a small shelter in the woods, distancing themselves from the downed ship, wary of search parties. John started a small fire and sat down across from Sarah. Charlie snoozed quietly next to him.

"She is a magnet for trouble," Sarah said, looking down at the fire. John smirked somewhat and nodded. He looked down at Charlie, the color returning to her face. "What is so different about her?" Sarah asked quietly. John thought for a moment and sighed.

"She's good," he said simply. "She doesn't do anything for personal gain. She does it because it's right." Sarah nodded slowly. He could tell she felt bad for how she had treated Charlotte. "Will you take first watch?" he asked, feeling rather exhausted. Sarah nodded. She picked up her rifle, and shouldered it, disappearing into the thickness of the forest. John leaned back against the tree trunk he was propped on. The fire was just a bout dead, a soft glow illuminating his face. He let himself fall asleep, happily.

**= WARNING EXPLICIT CONTENT =**

oOoOoOo

They were in Charlie's house. They were arguing, like usual. But it seemed different. Charlie suddenly picked up a coffee cup and threw it across the living room. It shattered on a wall next to John. He stared at her. Dressed in the clothes he was wearing the day they had met.

"Fine, leave!" she found herself screaming. John just stared at her, but moved, slightly in her direction. Charlie growled, and turned back to the kitchen. She was cooking. She threw a towel over her shoulder and went about her work. Suddenly his hands were on her hips. Charlie whipped around and shoved him, hard. But he didn't budge. He pinned her into the kitchen counter and himself. She pushed against him with her hands, but he didn't move. The size difference was immense between them. John lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. Like the night he first kissed her, Charlie melted. Her arms laced around his neck as she replied to his every move. John picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Breathlessly, she broke the kiss. He moved down to her neck, her collarbone, her chest...

"Stop, stop," she said, reeling back from him. John blinked up at her curiously. Charlie was confused. She cleared her throat, "I don't know what we're doing," she said softly.

"Let me show you," John said gruffly, walking to the wall and pressing her back into it. Charlie groaned into his neck, feeling his stiffness against her. He slipped a hand up her skirt, sliding his palm along her thigh. Charlie murmured against his lips, biting his lower and sucking it slightly. John moved his hand up in between her legs and grunted, pressing his fingers into the core of her. She was slick, and he had all he could not to slip himself into her. "Do you want me?" he whispered into her ear. Charlie shivered and nodded, biting her lip and pressing herself into him. John groaned throatily and let her reach down to unbutton his pants. He reached up her skirt, and grabbed her panties, yanking them to the right and ripping them off. Charlie moaned under her breath and clenched her teeth as he was suddenly inside of her. He pressed into her, pushing himself all the way inside her. Charlie gasped, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. He held her hips, pinning her against the wall with every thrust. Charlie moaned into his shoulder, her eyes closed. She opened them slowly, and noticed a dark figure on the other side of the room. She jumped, urging John to stop. He pulled back, and it wasn't him. It was some faceless man.

He pulled her off of the wall. He pushed her into the couch, climbing on top of her. Charlie screamed and kicked, shouting for John. It became clear John was the dark figure. He just stared at her. Made not move to help her. The faceless man was back inside of her, and making no effort to be gentle. He pinned her arms above her head, as John had done. He smelled just like him, made every move in exactness. As he came to a finish, Charlie lay there, sobbing, and he walked away, leaving her there. John, who was in the corner watched her, but did nothing to console her.

"John..." she said softly, still hiccuping from the ordeal. He turned his back and disappeared into the darkness, leaving her all alone...


End file.
